<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Destiny is a Funny Thing by CameraLux (TinCanTelephone)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25967500">Destiny is a Funny Thing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinCanTelephone/pseuds/CameraLux'>CameraLux (TinCanTelephone)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: The Last Airbender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Fire Nation Politics (Avatar), Fire Nation Royal Family, Flashbacks, Gen, Iroh (Avatar)-centric, Order of the White Lotus, Pai Sho, Redemption, Spirit World</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:41:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,097</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25967500</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinCanTelephone/pseuds/CameraLux</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>If a fish lives its whole life in this river, does it know the river’s destiny? No! Only that it runs on and on out of his control! He may follow where it flows, but he cannot see the end. He cannot imagine the ocean.</em>
</p><p>Iroh and Ozai over the years, and Iroh’s journey to the ocean.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Iroh &amp; Lu Ten, Iroh &amp; Ozai (Avatar), Iroh &amp; Ursa (Avatar), Iroh &amp; Zuko (Avatar)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The River - Part I: A Friendly Game</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Has anyone else noticed that Iroh and Ozai never interact on screen during the show? I realized this one day and COULDN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. So I started a one-shot about Iroh's life leading up to canon, and now it's 5 chapters XD </p><p>Anyway, it takes a long time for Iroh to become the wise old uncle we all know and love. ;)</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter content warning for ableist and offensive language.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <em>“I think you are exactly what you seem! A lazy, mistrustful, shallow old man who’s always been jealous of his brother!”</em>
</p><p class="p1">Zuko’s words are meant to hurt him, but Iroh knows better. He very much doubts Zuko knows anything about what his and Ozai’s lives were like when they were young, and is simply projecting. Zuko, Iroh knows, is jealous of Azula.</p><p class="p1">Try as he might, Iroh can’t recall a time when he was truly jealous of Ozai. Strictly speaking, perhaps Ozai was a marginally better firebender, when you adjusted for their difference in age and the fact that Ozai would regularly work himself into exhaustion in training. But truthfully, that never really bothered Iroh.</p><p class="p1">Maybe his greater sin, he thinks as Zuko’s breathing from the other bed evens out, was complacency. Looking back, Iroh doesn’t suppose he was terribly empathetic as a young man, or interested in much besides his immediate situation. Assured of the throne since he was a child and all he could ever want handed to him on a silver platter, there was very little about which to be insecure.</p><p class="p1">He still remembers his own half-hearted search for the Avatar, a lazy year or so of sailing around the Earth Kingdom and poking through the easily accessible portions of each Air Temple. The only notable experience gained from that year was his discovery of the Sun Warrior Civilization, and his judgment before Ran and Shaw. In hindsight, he supposes this should have been a turning point for him, and he should’ve left the ruins with a new appreciation for fire and firebending, but that night he dreamed of conquering the great city of Ba Sing Se, and felt only reassured in his belief that fire was indeed the superior element, and the world deserved to know it.</p><p class="p1">As he made his way back to the Capital City, he had great fun spinning the tale to his crew about how he’d found and killed the last living dragon, narrowly defeating the beast on the lip of a volcano and only managing to save a few blue scales as proof of his conquest. No one questioned the story, and it never occurred to him that they would. After a “reluctant” demonstration of fire-breath in the throne room when he returned, developed using an Air Nomad breathing technique he’d stumbled upon in his research, he pretended to be surprised when he was dubbed <em>The Dragon of the West</em>.</p><p class="p1">A soft wind blows in from the open window, a welcome relief from the heat, but Zuko’s blankets remain tucked up under his chin. Iroh frowns, watching his nephew’s thin shoulders rise and fall. The journey from the north pole was hard on them both, but Zuko had far less to spare. At his age, Iroh estimates that Lu Ten was at least a few inches taller, and a good half-stone heavier.</p><p class="p1"><em>Lu Ten</em>. He turns over in bed, restless as his thoughts begin to darken again. He married Lu Ten’s mother soon after the conclusion of his search for the Avatar. Their betrothal arranged from childhood, he’d known Jisune all his life, and although he could never honestly say he felt a great love for her, they got along well enough and he was happy. She was a firebender from a good family, everyone was comfortable in the expectation that their union would produce nothing less than a perfect heir to the throne, and Iroh was comfortable in his expectation that she would be nothing less than a perfect Fire Lady.</p><p class="p1">The day she died was perhaps the first big shock of his adult life– the first time something happened that was completely unexpected. He still remembers sitting frozen in the anteroom outside the bedchamber unable to move after a midwife tearfully delivered the news that he had a son, but had lost his wife.</p><p class="p1">At some point, his father arrived, offering perfunctory condolences before muttering on about something Iroh had no capacity to listen to. That is, until his newborn son was placed in his arms and he became aware of his surroundings again.</p><p class="p1">“…and I suppose Lady Serai, Lord Ukano’s cousin, could also be suitable, although neither of her parents are firebenders. You never know what to expect with that sort of thing. Of course Ozai suggested Lady Chienyi, but her family has a poor history with Coral Fever– two of her brothers died of it last year, and a third rendered unfit for the military–”</p><p class="p1">Iroh felt faint. “You… you’re talking about another betrothal contract?”</p><p class="p1">“Of course,” Azulon said, looking irritated at having been pulled from his train of thought. “The leadership of our nation can’t possibly rest on one child.” He gestured to the baby in Iroh’s arms. “Suppose he doesn’t survive the night?”</p><p class="p1">Anger, true anger, broke through the numbness as Iroh held the baby tight against his chest. “How dare you?” he said, in a tone only the Crown Prince could use against the Fire Lord. “This is my son– your grandson! Of course he’ll be fit to carry on your precious bloodline. The sages say he’s strong, and a firebender, what more could you want?”</p><p class="p1">Iroh ended his outburst flushed and panting, but Azulon looked barely perturbed. “As you like it,” he said coldly. “The funeral will be held at dusk tomorrow. Perhaps then we may speak of this more rationally. Lady Serai’s parents are only a messenger hawk away.”</p><p class="p1">He left without waiting for a reply, leaving Iroh alone again with his son, or so he thought. Not five minutes later Ozai emerged the shadows at the far end of the chamber. Iroh stared, wondering how long he’d been there, but he didn’t ask and of course Ozai didn’t volunteer the information.</p><p class="p1">“You’re right to refuse another betrothal,” he said, stepping further into the light and adjusting his robes in the mirror.</p><p class="p1">“It’s appalling!” Iroh spat.</p><p class="p1">“It is,” Ozai said mildly.</p><p class="p1">“Jisune’s body is barely cold and he wants to talk about the next one.”</p><p class="p1">“As you say,” Ozai said. “Appalling.” He was still fiddling with his robes, and Iroh watched as he pulled a scroll out of his left sleeve. As he held it up to the torchlight, Iroh realized it was his own betrothal contract.</p><p class="p1">“Ozai–”</p><p class="p1">“Clearly, father cannot be trusted with these things,” he said. “Jisune’s death is an indication of her weakness, and her son must’ve inherited that weakness.”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Ozai!</em>” He was ignored, and Iroh watched as the delicate parchment went up in flames.</p><p class="p1">“When I return from my quest to find the Avatar, I’ll choose my own bride.”</p><p class="p1">“Lady Chienyi?” Iroh said dryly. Despite her family’s health, her father was said to be a firebender second only to Azulon.</p><p class="p1">“Don’t be a fool,” Ozai snapped, as if Iroh had said something grievously offensive. “My bloodline needs to be <em>stronger</em>. What makes you think I’d want some inbred, consumptive weakling?”</p><p class="p1">The baby started crying, and the midwife returned to bring him to the wet nurse. Ozai and Iroh watched her go, neither speaking until she’d retreated again to the late Princess Jisune’s chambers.</p><p class="p1">Iroh crossed his arms. “Do you mean to marry a commoner, then?”</p><p class="p1">Ozai scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”</p><p class="p1">“You’ll never secure a noblewoman without involving the Fire Lord.” Iroh smirked. “Then you’ll regret burning that contract.”</p><p class="p1">“No, I won’t.” Ozai declared, kicking the ashes under the nearest chaise. “You’ll see.” His face turned halfway towards the torchlight, his eyes glittered with a malicious tint that unnerved Iroh even then– Ozai was barely sixteen.</p><p class="p1">It’s the same quality Iroh can see in Azula’s eyes now.</p><p class="p1">The sun is rising, and in the dim pre-dawn light he can see pieces of the shell she’d broken littering the floor by the window. Azula does nothing unintentionally. She has more self-control than any child he’s ever known, and he can read that action for the warning it is.</p><p class="p1">But Zuko can’t, or won’t, and Iroh knows he’ll take Azula’s offer and meet her down at her ship. It’s undoubtedly the wrong move, which Zuko would realize if he stopped to consider all the information, and Ozai would call him weak for falling for it.</p><p class="p1">Iroh looks back over at Zuko’s sleeping form, and makes up his mind. Whatever’s waiting for Zuko on Azula’s ship, he won’t be facing it alone.</p><p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“If you’re lucky, you will never have to use this technique at all!”</p><p class="p1">“Well if you won’t help me, I’ll find my own lightning.”</p><p class="p1">Before Iroh can say anything, Zuko mounts the stolen ostrich horse and rides away, towards the storm clouds gathering in the distance. He watches him go, and wonders if he would stop his nephew even if he could. Probably not, if he’s honest, because they both know that Zuko has never been lucky. Agni, Azula meant to shoot lighting at him just a few weeks ago.</p><p class="p1">So he retreats back to the ruined house where they’ve been sheltering and builds a fire to make some tea. Zuko will need something to warm him up when he returns. He claims to hate tea, but Iroh doesn’t worry about that. At that age, he wasn’t exactly enamored of tea, either.</p><p class="p1">Iroh credits Lu Ten with introducing him to tea. More specifically, Lu Ten’s sleeping habits. Out of loyalty to Jisune, he instructed all the nurses to wake him when the baby cried at night. Ozai sneered and said he’d recant the order within a week, so even though it crossed his mind to do so on the third straight night of being woken up at three in the morning, out of stubbornness Iroh persisted.</p><p class="p1">He took to brewing strong black tea to keep himself awake during the day, spending long hours studying strategy with the senior generals, and then herbal at night to calm his mind when Lu Ten had finished fussing.</p><p class="p1">Soon bored of the two or three types he knew how to brew off-hand, he learned that the palace still employed a Master of Tea Ceremonies– the position an apparent holdover from before Sozin’s time that no one had bothered to get rid of– and surprised the peevish, waif-like old man by inviting him up to the royal apartments for formal instruction.</p><p class="p1">“You must treat all the leaves differently,” he muttered after Iroh served him the bitterest oolong either of them had ever tasted. “Each variety has an ideal temperature. Too hot, and you will scald the leaves–” he grimaced and poured the contents of the teapot unceremoniously out the window, “too cool, and you will not properly release their flavor.”</p><p class="p1">He was very keen on the fact that Iroh was a firebender.</p><p class="p1">“Such command you possess over the temperature of the water!” he exclaimed, when he saw Iroh forego a fire and heat the pot using the palm of his hands. Then, “Too hot, too hot!” when the water boiled and steamed at the spout.</p><p class="p1">He snatched the pot away in a fit of offense and wagged a crooked finger at him. “You have no self-control! I cannot teach you if you will not learn!”</p><p class="p1">Iroh pushed the finger out of his face and briefly considered that he could have the man banished or worse for speaking to him this way.</p><p class="p1">Then he sighed and looked out the window into the night. How late it was he had no idea. Lu Ten was in the middle of yet another bout of colic– senseless screaming no one could calm.</p><p class="p1">(“It’s for his mother,” the nurses said sadly, shaking their heads and whispering when they thought he couldn’t hear. “A child always knows when his mother is gone.”</p><p class="p1">It made him irrationaly angry when he heard that– at Jisune for having died, and at himself. Perhaps if he’d loved her more she would’ve lived.)</p><p class="p1">“Show me again,” he said to the Tea Master, picking up the teapot again. He took a deep breath, drawing on the reserves of his chi, dull in the dead of night, and began to heat the water again, low and slow.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">When Lu Ten was two years old, Ozai completed his firebending training and set out to search for the Avatar. He returned after less than a year, without the Avatar but in possession of a remarkably large number of ancient scrolls on Avatar lore. </p><p class="p1">“The Avatar himself is dead, and the cycle is broken,” he declared with absolute certainty as he laid the thin and crumbling documents about an array of tables in his study. “But his power isn’t completely gone from the world, and I intend to capture it.”</p><p class="p1">“How?” Iroh drawled from the doorway, observing the scene with disdain. “What do you plan to do with all these half-truths and legends?”</p><p class="p1">But Ozai didn’t deign to answer him, just began unrolling the scrolls one by one and sorting them into seemingly random piles. Upon closer inspection, Iroh realized it was by relevance to different incarnations of the Avatar. He picked up a semi-intact scroll from a disorganized pile Ozai seemed to have dismissed, and found it to be an fragmented account by a firebender called Rangi <span class="s2">about Avatar Kyoshi and some glowing spirit. </span></p><p class="p3">“Useless, all of that,” Ozai said, barely glancing back to look. “My emissaries are imbeciles if they think I have time to waste studying an Earth Kingdom Avatar.”</p><p class="p3">“You never know,” Iroh said. “Useful knowledge has come from stranger sources.” He noticed the two most carefully curated piles were accounts surrounding Avatar Roku and his Fire Nation predecessor, Avatar Szeto.</p><p class="p3">Ozai flicked a hand and set fire to the scroll Iroh was holding. He tried to put it out, but the bone-dry parchment caught like tinder and was reduced to ash in seconds.</p><p class="p3">“There,” Ozai said. “Is the world any worse for not knowing that drivel? Now leave me be, I’m busy.”</p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">So Iroh did, and didn’t think too hard on the incident. H</span>e was determined to serve in the army, just as his father had done, so as to properly earn his birthright by leading them to victory against the Earth Kingdom, and was lately distracted with lessons on strategy and large-scale military tactics.</p><p class="p1">But the mysterious Earth Kingdom Avatar intrigued him, and in the moments when his patience for military history and rules of engagement began to wane, he found himself returning to the rest of the literature on her Ozai had collected and discarded.</p><p class="p1">At first there seemed to be a remarkable amount of it, but after doing the math and realizing the woman must have lived for over two hundred years, Iroh wondered how this was all the Fire Nation could find on her.</p><p class="p3"><span class="s2">The history he could piece together was worse than patchy– indeed, it was barely comprehensible– but there was one term that came up over and over again, <em>the</em></span> <em>White Lotus. </em>It was almost always mentioned in the same sentence as Pai Sho, and more than one document was stamped or sealed with an image akin to the one on the white lotus tile. The reasons for this were lost on him, and exhausting the Fire Nation’s information on Avatar Kyoshi brought him no closer to the answer.</p><p class="p3">Years of frustrated research didn’t seem to bring Ozai closer to whatever answer he was looking for either, but then Lu Ten began firebending, and Iroh suddenly had much more on the forefront of his mind than the history of long-dead Avatars. He thought often of his vision after seeing the Firebending Masters, and had determined that he would succeed where all his forefathers had failed. Ba Sing Se was undoubtedly the key to subduing the Earth Kingdom once and for all, and the dragons had shown him that he would be the one to conquer it.</p><p class="p3">But in the meantime, he made the most out of his relative freedom by spending time with Lu Ten. Despite the difficulty of the first year or so, Iroh could safely say he hadn’t ever known attachment quite like the one he had for his son. He was certain he’d never tire of watching Lu Ten show him new firebending katas each week, or talk about things he was learning in his lessons, or what he’d gotten up to with his friends. At any rate, Lu Ten’s easy smiles and good humor about nearly everything were always a welcome distraction from military duties, Azulon’s critical scrutiny, and Ozai’s judgmental glares.</p><p class="p3">Not that Ozai was around much these days. After exhausting his scrolls on Avatar lore and a few months spent lurking around the Dragonbone Catacombs, he’d started taking long sojourns out to seemingly random Fire Nation towns. It would sort of make sense if it were just big cities, Iroh supposed, given Ozai’s affinity for being worshipped, but then he learned from one of his brother’s former guards that he was even stopping at the tiniest villages. And instead of attending parades in his honor or holding court where the villagers could kowtow and beg for his favor, the only places he visited in the towns were the local clerk’s office or the temple– wherever the provincial records were kept. And then he would leave, with only minimal fanfare and an almost perfunctory palanquin ride through the town square.</p><p class="p3">The whole business was mystifying, to say the least, but Iroh refused to concern himself with it. Why waste time with his fool of a brother when his son was right there in front of him– growing like a weed and charming everyone he met. Of course, when things finally began to become clear, Iroh wished he’d paid a little more attention to Ozai’s antics.</p><p class="p3">“Father,” Ozai said one day, after all the generals and ministers had left the war room.</p><p class="p3">Iroh had been about to rise from his lotus position at Azulon’s right hand, but paused, curious.</p><p class="p3">“Yes?” Azulon raised an inscrutable eyebrow, although the wall of fire in front of them flickered a couple inches higher.</p><p class="p3">Ozai shifted onto his knees and bowed, a picture of filial respect. “It brings me great pleasure to inform you that I have selected a wife.”</p><p class="p3">Iroh carefully kept the surprise from his face, although he was immensely glad he’d stayed. He’d been wondering what was taking Ozai so long to get married, and why Azulon hadn’t commented on his lack of a betrothal contract.</p><p class="p3">Azulon didn’t seem impressed. “So you’ve finally given up your search?” he said coldly.</p><p class="p3">“On the contrary,” Ozai said, barely a hint of defiance creeping into his words. “My persistence has been rewarded– there is a woman in a town called Hira’a who will be more than suitable.”</p><p class="p3">Azulon frowned. “And what is her station?”</p><p class="p3">“She is the daughter of the local magistrate.”</p><p class="p3">The frown grew deeper. “Does she have the Spark?”</p><p class="p3">“I do not know–”</p><p class="p3">Azulon seemed about to interrupt, as Iroh expected. This business was already highly irregular– he could hardly believe Ozai was considering a <em>commoner</em> to be the Fire Princess, much less a <em>non-bender</em>.</p><p class="p3">But Ozai barreled on– “But it should hardly matter. I have done all the appropriate research, and cross-checked all the records. Through her mother’s side, the woman is a direct descendent of Avatar Roku.”</p><p class="p3">Iroh was glad Azulon was turned away from him, because he couldn’t stop his mouth from falling open, and could barely keep from leaning away from the wall of flame to his right, which grew hotter at the words <em>Avatar Roku</em>. He was torn between wanting to slap Ozai and shake him for his stupidity. It was an unwritten but well-known rule that the word <em>Avatar</em> never be spoken in the Firelord’s presence, much less <em>Avatar Roku</em>.</p><p class="p3">But the flames cooled quickly, as Azulon absorbed Ozai’s words. “Direct descendent, you said?”</p><p class="p3">“Yes, her mother is the daughter of Roku and Ta Min.”</p><p class="p3">“Mm,” Azulon muttered, stroking his greying beard between crooked fingers. “And you’re absolutely sure of the connection?”</p><p class="p3">“Positive,” Ozai said. “I hereby beg your permission to seek this woman’s hand, so that your bloodline may be imbued with the strength it deserves.”</p><p class="p3">Iroh almost flinched at his words, which were toeing the line of treasonous– implying that the firelord’s bloodline could be made stronger by the addition of an outside source.</p><p class="p3">But Azulon didn’t react, just stared impassively at Ozai, still kneeling before him, hands and forehead pressed hard into the cold marble. If Iroh didn’t know better, he’d say Ozai was holding his breath.</p><p class="p3">After a long, tense silence, the wall of fire lowered to almost nonexistent and Azulon stood up, straightening his robes in preparation to leave. Iroh quickly bowed as well, which conveniently hid his expression when Azulon spoke again.</p><p class="p3">“My permission is granted. I will accompany you Hira’a to arrange this match.”</p><p class="p3">Later, Iroh would wonder that the unfortunate lady’s feeling on the matter had never been mentioned once, but in that moment he could only kneel in stunned silence, wondering for the first time if he was truly related to his father and brother, if he was missing some essential ruthless ambition.</p><p class="p4"> </p><p class="p1"><span class="s2">Ozai and Azulon departed and returned within the month, and </span>it wasn’t lost on Iroh that Ozai’s wedding was held exactly nine months before the Summer Solstice. Personally, he found it a solemn and vaguely uncomfortable affair. The new Fire Princess looked awkward in the heavy robes and headdress that comprised her wedding costume, nearly as awkward as her parents, dressed in fine robes that clearly did not belong to them, and looking nervously at the Fire Nation nobility around them.</p><p class="p1">During the reception, the mother, Rina, nearly fell over in a faint when Lu Ten tried to duck behind her wide skirt to hide from his friends, and Iroh hastily pulled him away before they caused any further scene. Ozai swept in after that, the newly crowned Princess Ursa in tow, and Iroh retreated with Lu Ten to a group of familiar faces.</p><p class="p1">“Captain Piandao,” he bowed in greeting.</p><p class="p1">“Just Piandao, Prince Iroh,” Piandao corrected, bowing low.</p><p class="p1">Iroh raised an eyebrow. “You have left the military?” Such a thing was almost unheard of, but then, Piandao had always been a strange one.</p><p class="p1">“An honorable discharge,” he said lightly. “What does a mere swordsman have to contribute in an army of the best firebenders in the world?”</p><p class="p1">Iroh narrowed his eyes, certain it wasn’t that simple, but didn’t have a chance to press the matter before they were joined by someone else.</p><p class="p1">“Prince Iroh.”</p><p class="p1">“Commander Jeong Jeong.” Iroh bowed to the youngest ever commander in the navy, recently returned from a campaign near Omashu, whose tactics and strategies were studied widely in the ranking military. “I heard your last student has just been promoted to lieutenant. This accomplishment brings great honor to you as his Master.”</p><p class="p1">“Zhao was indeed my last student,” Jeong Jeong said cryptically.</p><p class="p1">Iroh noticed he was rolling something in between his fingers, but didn’t catch what it was until he suddenly caught it in his fist and flicked it to Piandao.</p><p class="p1"><em>A pai sho tile</em>. And not just any tile– the white lotus. The pattern was still burned into his mind from the scrolls on Avatar Kyoshi. He glanced back and forth between his friends, suddenly feeling like he was missing something, but before he could say anything Piandao was wandering back towards the drinks table and Jeong Jeong had produced another tile, seemingly out of nowhere.</p><p class="p1">“Fancy a game, Prince Iroh?”</p><p class="p1">Iroh glanced around. Lu Ten had run off to find his friends again, Ozai was still in conference with Princess Ursa and her parents, and Azulon was distracted with several high-ranking war ministers.</p><p class="p1">He shrugged. “Why not?”</p><p class="p1">They found a table just inside the palace next to a window overlooking the yard where the reception was taking place, so they could conceivably still be taking part in the festivities, and began to play.</p><p class="p1">After years of fierce competition with Ozai, Iroh considered himself pretty good at Pai Sho– indeed, he hardly ever lost a game. But he lost this one. Rather badly and faster than he expected, trapped by an odd strategy involving, of all things, the white lotus tile. He couldn’t help but stare at Jeong Jeong in mild shock. Although not recently, they’d played against each other before, and Iroh certainly didn’t remember seeing this particular tactic.</p><p class="p1">“My apologies, Prince,” Jeong Jeong said, bowing his head. “I only mean a bit of friendly competition.”</p><p class="p1">Iroh shook himself out of his stupor. “Of course, of course,” he said, reaching to collect his tiles. He was sure he could counter the move if he could try again. “Shall we play another round?”</p><p class="p1">It was no good, of course. He lost again– the first time he could remember losing two games of Pai Sho in a row. He frowned at the board as Jeong Jeong collected his tiles, saving the white lotus for last.</p><p class="p1">“Prince Iroh,” he said, turning the tile over in his fingers again, “have you ever heard of the white lotus gambit?”</p><p class="p1">“No.” Iroh kept himself from asking <em>which one</em>, as Jeong Jeong couldn’t have used the same move to defeat him in both games– the strategy had been completely different, even if the white lotus tile was essential both times.</p><p class="p1">“It’s an unusual strategy,” he said, “Some would say outdated.” He looked at the tile one last time before tucking it away in his sleeve. “Favored in particular by the Avatar.”</p><p class="p1">In a flash of irritation, any further questions Iroh might’ve asked abruptly flew from his mind. What was everyone’s obsession with the Avatar these days? As if the Fire Nation hadn’t gotten along perfectly fine without one for the past eighty years. Better, even, if the stories of Roku and Sozin’s schism were true. He stood up from the board without tidying up. One of the servants would handle it later.</p><p class="p1">“You’re right,” he said. “It is outdated. It’s surly been taken over by better, more modern techniques.”</p><p class="p1">“Of course, my Prince.” Jeong Jeong bowed again, and Iroh turned on his heel to return to the party, even though that too was tied up in Avatar business.</p><p class="p1">On his way out, he caught sight of Princess Ursa, dithering near the door looking rather alone, Ozai nowhere in sight. Immediately, Iroh felt his irritation cool, in favor of another wave of pity for the poor woman, spirited away from her home and her family to this strange place where she knew no one and no one knew her.</p><p class="p1">“My lady.” he stopped and bowed to her. It wouldn’t do to leave her alone like this.</p><p class="p1">“Prince Iroh.” She bowed as well, the motion jerky and clearly unfamiliar, the tassels of her headdress rattling.</p><p class="p1">“My congratulations to you on this happy occasion,” he said, for what else was one supposed to say to a woman on her wedding day?</p><p class="p1">“Thank you,” she said, bowing again, although he could tell she thought the occasion no happier than he did. “You are very kind.”</p><p class="p1">Iroh smiled at her sincerity, although it made him a little uncomfortable. He hadn’t been very kind to Jeong Jeong just now, and he’d done nothing to stop Ozai from pursuing his ridiculous plan that had gotten her abducted and married to someone she barely knew.</p><p class="p1">He cast about the party for something to pull her focus from him. “Master Piandao!” He waved and gestured until his old friend joined them. “I don’t believe you’ve met the new princess, have you?”</p><p class="p1">“Not yet.” Piandao bowed. “It is an honor, my lady.”</p><p class="p1">“And to meet you.” Ursa gave another shaky bow. There was an awkward pause in the exchange no one seemed to know how to fill until she spoke again. “So you are a Master of firebending?”</p><p class="p1">“No, my lady,” Piandao said. “Merely a swordsman.”</p><p class="p1">“A <em>master</em> swordsman,” Iroh interjected, hoping to make the conversation more exciting, but it was hardly necessary. At the word <em>swordsman</em>, Ursa’s eyes lit up in a way he hadn’t seen all evening.</p><p class="p1">“Really?” she said. “May I ask– what types of swords do you wield?”</p><p class="p1">Piandao looked surprised, but answered her question. “Personally, I favor a jian,” he said, “although I have knowledge of many styles.”</p><p class="p1">“Including–” Ursa hesitated, “dual wielding?”</p><p class="p1">“Of course, Princess. On occasion I give instruction in this style as well as in my particular specialty.” He bowed again. “You must excuse my surprise. I was not aware of your interest in the art of swordsmanship.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh no, no. Not me.” Ursa was shaking her head before he finished speaking. “I had a– an old friend…” The sadness returned to her face, and as Iroh followed her gaze around the yard, he realized her parents were nowhere to be seen.</p><p class="p1">“But no matter.” A falsely bright smile plastered itself over her face. “That is my old life now. Today, I’m happy to begin a new life.”</p><p class="p1">Iroh and Piandao smiled and nodded, and they all raised glasses of wine to their lips to hide their discomfort with the painfully obvious lie.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Iroh remembers excusing himself from the party soon after that, and distracting himself with perhaps heavier-than-necessary reading on military strategy before he went to bed. But try as he might he’s never forgotten Ursa’s expression that night, and the heavy sense that rather than her life beginning again, it had been brought to a sudden and premature end.</p><p class="p1">Thunder rumbles in the distance and pulls him out of the light doze into which he’d fallen against the dusty wall of the shack. It’s still raining outside, but more lightly now, and the tea is long since cold. He sets about brewing another pot, just about finished when Zuko trudges back inside, shivering and soaked to the bone, gaunt face drawn tight around red-rimmed eyes.</p><p class="p1">There’s no smell of ozone about him, and Iroh breathes a quiet sigh of relief that the spirits have chosen to spare him this time, but doesn’t say a word as he hands him a cup.</p><p class="p1">Neither of them speak night, and although Zuko’s breathing eventually steadies enough for him to warm himself, steam rising in thin tendrils from his hair and clothes, his expression remains hollow, melancholy in a way that makes Iroh think of Ursa on her wedding day.</p><p class="p1">The resemblance threatens to hurt him physically, but when he shifts and presses a hand to his chest Zuko assumes it’s because of the wound, and helps him lie down on the thin pallet he’s cobbled together from straw and scraps of clothes. He pretends to sleep after that, but really waits until Zuko sleeps first, slumped in the corner with his chin tucked into his chest, teardrops of water falling from the brim of his tattered straw hat.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Coral Fever inspired by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/14178822">this fic</a></p><p>Updates will be irregular but I do have this whole thing planned out and I'm hoping finally starting to post will give me some momentum :) </p><p>Note as of October 5, 2020: yes I am still working on this lol chapter 3 is taking <em>forever</em> to write haha- and in the process of doing research for that chapter I realized I got the Fire Nation Avatar before Roku's name wrong. Whoops :( It's fixed now, though</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The River - Part II: Letters from Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Whoops– sorry for taking so long with the update!! Chapter 3 got so long I had to split it, so another chapter should be up before too long ;) ;) </p><p>chapter content warning for offensive and ableist language, and references to child and domestic partner abuse</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <em>“This city is a prison. I don’t want to make a life here.”</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>“Life happens wherever you are, whether you make it or not.”</em>
</p><p class="p1">And Agni, is life happening here or what. Less than a week into their jobs at Pao’s Tea House and that boy from the ferry attacks them in the middle of the shop. Zuko, restless and perhaps a little too eager for a fight, is more than ready to defend them with a pair of borrowed dual dao, and holds his own against Jet’s strange hooked weapons until the Dai Li arrive and take him away.</p><p class="p1">“You don’t understand!” he yells. “They’re Fire Nation! You have to believe me!”</p><p class="p1">Iroh turns away as the boy is hustled into the Dai Li’s wagon. It doesn’t feel quite honorable to let him be arrested for telling the truth, but Iroh doesn’t really have a choice. Even with the little securities they have now– some money and food and a roof over their heads– they’re still vulnerable. They have to protect themselves. He has to protect Zuko.</p><p class="p1">He waits until they’re back in their apartment, door shut firmly behind them, to ask, “Are you all right?”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah,” Zuko mutters, bending over the sink to splash water on his face. “He wasn’t that good.”</p><p class="p1">Iroh eyes Zuko’s own (stolen) dual dao, propped up against the wall near the door to the bedroom. In some ways, it’s the best disguise they have against accusations of firebending. After all, what bender receives such extensive training in weapons?</p><p class="p1">“It’s lucky you’ve stayed in practice,” he comments mildly. He thinks back to their years on the <em>Wani</em>, and notes even after hours, days, and weeks of training katas, Zuko has never moved as easily or fluidly when firebending as he has with swords, which Iroh never saw him practice once.</p><p class="p1">Zuko hesitates near the door to the apartment’s only bedroom, then makes a soft noise somewhere between a scoff and a single, bitter laugh. “Yeah,” he says. “Lucky.”</p><p class="p1">He shuts the door behind him and Iroh shakes his head, cursing his poor choice of words as he puts on another pot of tea. He knows as well as anyone a streak of bad luck has plagued Zuko since the day he was born.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The gamble Ozai had made dawned on Iroh soon after the wedding. Marrying a non-bender, whose parents were non-benders, was considered a risk on its own, even if the woman was from the ranks of acceptable nobility. Ursa’s position was many times more precarious, and when their union did not produce a child on the first solstice after their marriage things became very tense indeed.</p><p class="p1">Looking back, Iroh is ashamed of the way he kept his head down, busying himself with short campaigns in the Earth Kingdom to earn his place as a general and spending all his time with Lu Ten when he was home. Although he liked Ursa and felt sorry that such a gentle person was married to someone like his brother, he made a point to avoid their apartments in the palace, and told himself firmly his brother’s marriage was none of his business.</p><p class="p1">Ozai and Ursa had been married for two years when she became pregnant for the first time. Iroh happened to be at the palace, and heartily congratulated his brother over dinner.</p><p class="p1">“Yes, yes,” Ozai said, pushing distractedly at his komodo chicken. “Although the timing is off. At this rate the child will be born in the middle of winter.”</p><p class="p1">Iroh raised his eyebrows. “Surely that can’t be what you’re thinking about <em>now</em>.” Ursa wasn’t at the table– she was being seen to by healers after being badly ill for three days.</p><p class="p1">Ozai frowned, and began eating with more enthusiasm than was perhaps fitting for a man whose wife was nearly bedridden. “You know what the fire sages say about children born in winter.”</p><p class="p1">Iroh pressed his lips together. The fire sages said a lot of things.</p><p class="p1">Lu Ten tugged on his sleeve. “Father, what about babies born in winter?”</p><p class="p1">“Don’t worry yourself about it.” He ruffled his son’s hair, wondering at the same time why he was encouraging such an old-fashioned superstition. “You were born in the summer.” (Technically towards the end of spring, but close enough.)</p><p class="p1">“Like all strong firebenders,” Ozai said.</p><p class="p1"><em>Not all</em>, Iroh wanted to say. Jeong Jeong’s birthday was in the fall, which was almost winter, but speaking up would only start an argument, and what would be the point? Ozai would meet his child, whenever it was born, and then he’d understand that none of those silly things mattered.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Of course, Ursa went into labor on the longest night of the year– an especially cold one at that. Servants stoked fires in both fireplaces in the antechamber where Iroh found Ozai, pacing frantically up and down and shaking his head.</p><p class="p1">“No. No, no no!” he was muttering. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go at all!”</p><p class="p1">“Relax, Brother.” Iroh reached for Ozai’s arm to calm him. “I’m sure Ursa and the child will be fine.”</p><p class="p1">“Fine?” Ozai tore away from him. “Nothing about this is fine! This is supposed to be my strongest child– my heir! The one to bear our father’s name! And it’s going to be born nearly five weeks before term on the coldest night on record.”</p><p class="p1">Iroh took a large step back. “How can you speak like that? This is your <em>child</em> you’re talking about!”</p><p class="p1">“Easy for you to say.” Ozai rounded on him. “You have the perfect son. Imagine how shameful it would be if Lu Ten were not a bender.”</p><p class="p1">“It wouldn’t be shameful at all.” Iroh drew up his shoulders. “I love and value Lu Ten for who he is, not his bending ability.”</p><p class="p1">“Then you’re a fool.” Ozai stopped pacing and stared hard at the door to Ursa’s room, which had fallen suddenly quiet.</p><p class="p1">Iroh’s heart was pounding, and he blinked hard to keep from flashing back to the night Lu Ten was born.</p><p class="p1">Ozai stood frozen, even after the waiting fire sages were summoned into the room to examine the child.</p><p class="p1">“Go on.” Iroh came around and held out a cup of tea. “I’m sure everything will work out as you expect.”</p><p class="p1">Ozai seemed to shake himself, then pushed Iroh’s hand away and strode into the room after the fire sages, closing the door behind him.</p><p class="p1">Iroh stayed back, curious although it wasn’t his place. In truth, their conversation had him feeling uncomfortable– Ozai was right, it was easy for him to say he’d accept Lu Ten regardless of bending status, since Lu Ten was a bender. It would’ve been strange if he weren’t, since his parents were of impeccable lineage, but Iroh hesitated to say it would be <em>shameful</em>.</p><p class="p1">There was a sudden commotion from Ursa’s room– a clatter and the splash of water spilling, then the unmistakable <em>whoosh</em> of firebending. One of the sages stumbled out of the door, flapping his hands and robes still smoking, and then Iroh heard the shouting.</p><p class="p1">“–is a disgrace! A stain upon me and my family!”</p><p class="p1">Iroh flinched.</p><p class="p1">Ursa was crying, pleading with her husband. “My Lord, you have to give him a chance! Shyu says there’s hope–”</p><p class="p1">“Hope! What hope? Either there’s no Spark, or it’s the weakest anyone’s ever seen. How will we suffer the humiliation?”</p><p class="p1">Ursa’s sobbing grew louder. “Ozai, <em>please</em>.”</p><p class="p1">“I should cast the child over the palace walls, and spare us all the indignity.” Ozai’s voice was so cold Iroh shuddered, and he almost entered the room himself to stop his brother from doing something truly rash, when a tense murmur from the fire sages seemed to calm the atmosphere somewhat, and Ursa’s sobs grew quieter.</p><p class="p1">“<em>Fine</em>,” Ozai said at length. “Since you all seem so <em>optimistic</em>.”</p><p class="p1">Iroh could hear the sneer in his words.</p><p class="p1">“I shall be in my chambers,” he said, voice condescending and distant. “Not to be disturbed.” Ozai stalked out of the room, and Iroh leapt aside to get out of the way, remembering the unfortunate fire sage’s robes.</p><p class="p1">In the silence that followed, he could still hear Ursa crying, but he couldn’t bring himself to go into the room. He told himself again that it wasn’t his business, but deep in his stomach he felt ashamed. Shame that he didn’t know what to say about the possibility non-bender in the royal family, and shame that he couldn’t shake the belief that that mattered.</p><p class="p1">So he hovered outside, tense and despondent, until the sun rose outside the eastern windows.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Maybe Iroh had too much faith, but perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised when Ozai would barely spare the child a glance for months after he was born. Signs of a definite Spark eluded the fire sages, who were frequently called to re-examine him. Iroh found himself hoping that one day they would see something, if only because maybe then Ozai would let go of his obsession, but then in the same minute chastised himself for wishing for such things. Ozai should show love towards his son regardless– perhaps it would even do him some good to learn to care for something without thinking about how it could benefit him.</p><p class="p1">But whatever love Ozai failed to show, Ursa made sure to make up ten times. She named the boy Zuko, since Ozai wouldn’t hear of him being called after their father, and doted on him like Iroh had doted on Lu Ten. Perhaps even more so, since she refused almost all help from the servants and kept the baby in her apartments, which remained separate from Ozai’s rather longer than was customary.</p><p class="p1">She seemed quite happy, and privately, Iroh applauded her. He enjoyed seeing her escape somewhat from under Ozai’s thumb, and have someone who loved her in the way she deserved. But Ozai grew impatient, and after a Spark failed to appear by the boy’s first birthday, Ursa was moved back into their shared quarters, and Zuko relegated to the nursery.</p><p class="p1">Iroh was away on a campaign for the majority of Ursa’s second pregnancy, but returned in time for Lu Ten’s thirteenth birthday, which fell when the new princess was ten months old. Ozai was in an unusually good mood– the girl had been born at high noon in the middle of summer, and with a Spark so bright the fire sages were still talking about it. Naturally, she had been given Azulon’s name.</p><p class="p1">Even Ursa looked happier, holding Zuko on her lap as she and Iroh sang happy birthday to Lu Ten. Ozai, of course, did not sing along, but didn’t regard the proceedings with evident disdain, and didn’t say a word as Zuko babbled excitedly over the singing and applause. For her part, Ursa ignored her husband, laughing joyously as Zuko shoved his whole face into the small slice of cake she put in front of him.</p><p class="p1">“Have they seen the Spark?” Iroh asked her later that evening, when they had a minute alone.</p><p class="p1">Her’s lips turned down ever so slightly, and she glanced at Zuko, fast asleep on her shoulder. “Not yet.” She ran a hand over his hair. “But it doesn’t matter. He’s perfect just the way he is.”</p><p class="p1">Iroh nodded, following her gaze to the boy’s sleeping face. One chubby cheek was mashed against Ursa’s collar, chocolate frosting still smudged around on his mouth. He couldn’t help but grin, and wondered for the thousandth time wondered why Ozai couldn’t seem to appreciate what he had.</p><p class="p1">He departed for the Earth Kingdom again soon after that. Lu Ten tried valiantly to hide his disappointment, and it pained Iroh’s heart to see him so upset, but he told himself it couldn’t be helped. He had to be an experienced general– the best the Fire Nation had ever seen– if he was going to conquer Ba Sing Se, and he had only just started shadowing commanders during battles.</p><p class="p1">“I’m so sorry,” he said, giving Lu Ten one more hug before he left, then placing two hands on his shoulders. He couldn’t believe how tall his son was growing. “You’ll be able to join me out there soon. Just study hard on your lessons and listen to your Sifu, and then we’ll be able to fight for the Fire Nation side by side.”</p><p class="p1">Lu Ten cracked a smile at that. “Do you promise to write so I know where you are?”</p><p class="p1">“Of course.” Iroh nodded. “And I’ll anxiously await your replies for news from home.”</p><p class="p1">Lu Ten’s smile grew and he promised not to leave anything out before they said their final goodbyes and Iroh climbed into his palanquin to be taken down to the harbor.</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Over the next few years, Iroh was away from the Fire Nation more often than not, but Lu Ten always made good on his promise and wrote back quickly each time he sent a hawk signaling his location and recent movements.</p><p class="p1"><em>Aunt Ursa</em> <em>takes us to see plays every time we visit Ember Island</em>, he wrote in one letter. <em>And little Zuko never falls asleep, ever! I even saw Uncle Ozai snoring once near the end of ‘Twelve Angry Firebenders.’</em></p><p class="p1">Iroh chuckled aloud at that– both at the mental image of his overly-dignified brother slumped over and drooling in the royal box at the Ember Island Theater and the thought that perhaps Ozai was coming around to some of Ursa’s interests, if he actually attended a play with his family.</p><p class="p1"><em>I’m teaching Zuko how to read</em>, Lu Ten wrote on another occasion. <em>Aunt Ursa lost her voice last week and couldn’t read his bedtime stories, so I read them instead and showed him what each character meant</em>. <em>Then Azula woke up and wanted to join us, and I had to go back and teach her all the words I’d just taught ‘Zuzu.’ It was really sweet– she wants to do everything her brother does these days, but I think Zuko was kind of annoyed it wasn’t just the two of us anymore. </em></p><p class="p1">Again, Iroh smiled. Sometimes he still wondered if he should’ve submitted to another betrothal contract, if only so Lu Ten could have a sibling– but then he remembered how difficult his relationship with Ozai could be, and thought that his cousins were more than enough.</p><p class="p1">In these correspondences, between news of Lu Ten’s firebending lessons, adventures with his friends, and nervous, vague stories about girls, Iroh kept half an eye out for news of Zuko’s firebending.</p><p class="p1"><em>Zuko sat in on my firebending lesson today,</em> he wrote. <em>The fire sages thought they saw something the last time they checked him out, so he’s been going to the temple a lot to pray to Agni and Aunt Ursa suggested he watch me while I practiced, to see if that helped. At the end, Uncle Ozai made Sifu Shao take him through a few beginner katas, but nothing worked. I felt kind of bad– Zuko’s only six, I read somewhere that lots of kids discover their inner flame a little late. I told him afterwards it wasn’t his fault, but he still looked so disappointed</em>.</p><p class="p1">Iroh sighed and tapped his fingers on his writing desk in consternation. He could admit he wanted Zuko to be a firebender as much as anyone in the royal family would, but he wasn’t sure pushing a child who had yet to make a spark through beginners’ katas was the right thing to do. Ozai must be growing desperate.</p><p class="p1">His concern only grew with Lu Ten’s next letter–</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Father, you’ll hardly believe it– Azula firebent today! And not just a spark or a bit of smoke, a whole flame she could hold in the palm of her hand. It was honestly kind of scary, to see a four-year-old holding a fire up to her face like that, but she seemed to be in perfect control of it, and even tried to use it to scare some turtle ducks in the garden. Aunt and Uncle were very happy of course, Uncle Ozai especially, but Zuko’s been gloomy all week. I think he’s afraid this means he’s definitely not a bender now, but I don’t think that’s true. At least– I hope it isn’t. I told him I’m surehe’ll firebend soon, although now I’m wondering if I shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. What if he really never firebends, Father? Aunt Ursa says all the time it doesn’t matter, but I’m not sure Uncle Ozai and Grandfather feel the same way.</em>
</p><p class="p1">This troubling development was still on Iroh’s mind when he returned to the palace a few weeks later. Jeong Jeong had deserted the navy and the war council was in an uproar trying to figure out how to replace their most decorated admiral, and how to discourage such a thing from ever happening again. From what Iroh could tell, his old friend had disappeared into the Earth Kingdom and had evaded all attempts at capture.</p><p class="p1">It was upsetting, to say the least, made worse by the fact that as indicated by Lu Ten’s latest correspondence, the atmosphere surrounding his brother’s family was also rather tense. Ozai appeared at first to be in overall good spirits, particularly when speaking about Azula, but his mood would sour as soon as Zuko dared to call attention to himself. For her part, Azula seemed thrilled to have her father’s attention, while not completely understanding why her brother wasn’t as happy as she was. And Ursa seemed to be struggling to balance pride in Azula’s skill with sympathy for Zuko’s bitter moping.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know how much longer I can take this,” she confided to Iroh on one of his rare free afternoons. “Azula has formal lessons now, and it’s all Ozai talks about– in front of them too, as if that’ll do any good.” She sniffed and brushed frustrated tears from her eyes.</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry, Ursa.” Iroh nodded in sympathy and handed her a cup of tea.</p><p class="p1">“Thank you.” She drank and took a slow breath, steadying herself. “I… I want him to feel <em>good</em> at something, you know? I want him to have something to work on while Azula learns firebending. A skill that could make him feel useful.”</p><p class="p1">“I’m sure there’s something you can do,” Iroh said. “You have all the resources of the court at your disposal, and of course let me know if I can be of any service.”</p><p class="p1">“Well…” Ursa looked down at her lap, thinking. “I was trying to remember– what was the name of that man you introduced me to at my wedding? The swordsman?”</p><p class="p1">“Piandao,” Iroh said. “I believe he’s settled outside Shu Jing.”</p><p class="p1">“I see.” She hesitated again. “Do you think it would be possible to convince him to do a residency here? To give Zuko some beginner’s instruction, at least until he finds his inner flame.” She didn’t have to add, <em>if he ever finds it at all</em>. </p><p class="p1">Iroh nodded. “I’ll write to him on your behalf. We’re old friends, I don’t even believe I’ll have to invoke the <em>Crown Prince</em> argument.”</p><p class="p1">Ursa smiled and relaxed. “That would be wonderful. Thank you, Iroh.”</p><p class="p1">“Of course,” he said. “Anything for family.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">When he inevitably departed again, he again had to keep tabs on Zuko and Azula through Lu Ten’s letters.</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Zuko turned seven today, and Uncle had the fire sages examine him again. This time most of them agreed there was something there, but I think that just made the poor kid feel worse that he hasn’t been able to make so much as a spark.</em>
</p><p class="p1">Iroh frowned, but the rest of the letter contained some good news–</p><p class="p1">
  <em>But on the bright side, his lessons with Master Piandao have been going really well! The kid’s a natural as far as I can tell, and Master Piandao says he could work up to dual wielding in only a few years. I don’t know much about swordsmanship, but that sounds impressive. I wish Uncle Ozai would acknowledge that once in a while– all Zuko wants to do is make his father proud, but still Uncle really only pays attention to Azula’s firebending lessons. Although to be fair, they are amazing to watch. I’ve never seen anyone learn that fast, she’s doing things at five I only mastered at ten! Sometimes it seems like she only has to observe something once before she’s able to do it perfectly herself. </em>
</p><p class="p1">He had to admit, a child learning katas so quickly did sound impressive, and Iroh would by lying if he said he wasn’t curious. But he was also eager to see Zuko’s swordplay lessons, and to speak with Piandao– not just about Zuko, either. Jeong Jeong’s desertion made two friends who had abandoned the military, and Iroh wondered if the first one to leave could shed some light on the reasons why.</p><p class="p1">But just before he was set to return, another letter came–</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Father, I hope this letter reaches you in time. I know you’re about to depart for home, but I just couldn’t wait to send it! I have the most exciting news– Zuko finally firebent today! He’s been meditating to the sunrise for a few weeks now (I invited him to join me), as well as to candles in the evening. Anyway, Uncle Ozai and Grandfather have been gone for a few days on a tour of one of the new factories, so Zuko seemed calmer than usual, or at least more relaxed. After our meditation was finished, I walked him slowly through the most basic form I could remember, just for fun I thought, so he could get a feel for the motions, and at the end he actually produced a puff of smoke! I could hardly believe it, and I don’t think he could either, but it was definitely there! He couldn’t do it again when we tried to show Aunt Ursa, but she believed me when I said I saw it and set about finding him a real firebending Master– finally! Azula of course said that he could share her Master, although I don’t think Zuko wants that. To be honest, I’m not sure I’d want that either, to share lessons with someone already ahead by six forms. I’m praying to Agni for your swift and safe return, and look forward to seeing you soon!</em>
</p><p class="p1">Iroh didn’t have time to write a reply, but visited the helmsman of his ship to see if they could go a little faster. He was anxious to see how Zuko’s long-awaited discovery of his inner flame would change the dynamic at home, and for Lu Ten’s upcoming birthday. He would be eighteen this year, and as a present (one of many), Iroh would be inviting him to join his next campaign.</p><p class="p1">Ursa met him first when he arrived at the palace, and Iroh greeted her warmly.</p><p class="p1">“Princess.” He bowed. “I hope you have been doing well.”</p><p class="p1">“I have, thank you.” She bowed as well, the motion smooth and practiced after so many years in the palace, although her expression belied her words.</p><p class="p1">“I heard from Lu Ten that Zuko has started firebending,” he said as she led him into the palace. “My congratulations to you and Ozai.”</p><p class="p1">“Thank you.” She nodded, but the line between her brows remained. “We are very happy.”</p><p class="p1">“I also heard his lessons in the art of the sword were going well.” He hesitated, glancing around as they passed the training grounds. “I had been hoping to speak with the master, if he could spare the time.”</p><p class="p1">Ursa’s frowned deepened and she stopped, breaking all formality. “Master Piandao has been sent away,” she said, visibly upset. “Ozai said his services aren’t required now that Zuko’s firebending.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh.” Iroh stopped as well, a bit taken aback, although the logic wasn’t necessarily flawed. “Well, did Zuko want to stop the lessons, too?”</p><p class="p1">“No!” Ursa said. “He loved them more than anything, but now all he has is firebending and he’s constantly being compared to Azula…” She started walking swiftly down the hallway again, so Iroh had to hurry to catch up.</p><p class="p1">He soon heard the shouts of children and they reached the edge of a courtyard, where Zuko and Azula are playing hide and explode. They watched as Azula caught Zuko and directed a fire blast at his head. Zuko dodged it, barely, and tried to fire back, but only produced a few weak sparks that didn’t really go anywhere.</p><p class="p1">“Azula!” Ursa said sharply. “How many times to I have to say it? No firebending at your brother!”</p><p class="p1">“But Mom,” Azula said, turning away from where Zuko was still lying in the dirt. “Father says we’re allowed to spar now that Zuzu’s a firebender.”</p><p class="p1">“Well, I say you’re not,” Ursa said. “Someone could’ve gotten hurt. And right now you can go to your room to think about what you’ve done.”</p><p class="p1">“But <em>Mom</em>, Zuko firebent too!”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Now</em>.”</p><p class="p1">Azula glared and shuffled out of the courtyard, muttering about how unfair it all was. Zuko growled and picked himself up, looking sullen. He bowed a quick greeting to Iroh before slinking away in the other direction.</p><p class="p1">“You must admit she had a point,” Iroh said thoughtfully, looking in the direction Azula had gone. “Zuko did technically firebend as well.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, don’t you start!” Ursa snapped. “Ozai already spoils that girl far past what’s good for her. You can bet anything you like she’s not going to her room at all, but to find her father, who’ll directly contradict me and let her off the hook.” She closed her eyes and pressed long fingers to her temples. “It’s hard enough to protect Zuko from the worst of Ozai’s temper. I can’t fight him over Azula, too.”</p><p class="p1">Iroh leaned against the rail and tried to look sympathetic, although he couldn’t exactly relate to the difficulties of co-parenting, he had hoped his brother wouldn’t make it quite so difficult for everyone. He wondered if Ursa and Ozai had ever returned to sharing apartments after Azula was born. Somehow, he didn’t think it likely.</p><p class="p1">Despite the somewhat tense atmosphere between members of his brother’s family, Lu Ten’s birthday was a joyous occasion that ended in an ecstatic Lu Ten packing his things to join Iroh on the warfront. As they say their goodbyes, Iroh reflected that Lu Ten might be the only one who could straddle the line between Zuko and Azula, as both embraced him with equal enthusiasm when they saw him off. Iroh almost felt guilty for taking him away from them, but the thought was quickly overtaken when Lu Ten stood at his right hand at the helm of their ship. It was a long way to Chameleon Bay, and this time Iroh had sworn not to leave until the Fire Nation had secured the West Lake, strategically essential for an assault on Ba Sing Se. It was only right that Lu Ten should be with him for this accomplishment, when he was so close to achieving his destiny.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">After may hard-fought battles, the West Lake fell and Iroh sent Lu Ten home for some well-deserved leave while he stayed behind to hold the fort. As always, Lu Ten promised to write, and Iroh looked forward to news from the palace.</p><p class="p1"><em>Father, you were right– it does feel good to be back for a little while. There’s so much distraction on the warfront it was easy not to notice how much I missed my friends and old tutors while I was away. I suppose the biggest news is that Lady Soya is now engaged to the son of Lord Zomek, but don’t let that trouble you too much. As I’ve said many times before, Lady Soya and I were just friends. You’ve said that you spared me a betrothal contract for my own good, and I intend to enjoy that freedom for as long as I can</em>.</p><p class="p1">Iroh sighed and smiled ruefully. Privately, he had harbored a secret hope that the friendship between Lu Ten and Lady Soya would grow into something more, so that he could choose his bride and feel the kind of love Iroh hadn’t for Jisune, and have a marriage that wasn’t the complicated, twisted thing it was for Ozai and Ursa.</p><p class="p1">But no matter, Lu Ten wasn’t yet twenty. There was plenty of time for that. The letter went on–</p><p class="p1"><em>Zuko and Azula have gotten so big! I told Zuko he might be taller than me one day and he declared he didn’t believe me, but I know he was secretly pleased. His firebending has much improved, as has his swordsmanship. I guess Aunt Ursa convinced Uncle Ozai to let him keep training on the side with the captain of the non-bending guards, as long as it doesn’t interfere with his firebending. Personally, I think he gets more than enough practice on that front from the way he and Azula bicker sometimes! Father, I confess there were times I wished I had a younger brother or sister, but you can be assured that those feelings are more than gone. I don’t think a week goes by where one of them (usually Zuko, who despite his best efforts remains well behind in training) doesn’t have at least one small bruise or burn they won’t talk about– for apparently that is the shame of being bested by a sibling</em>.</p><p class="p1">At first, Iroh chuckled at the picture Lu Ten seemed to paint of squabbling siblings, but the humor quickly faded when he remembered the brief fight he’d witnessed with Ursa last time he was home. He wondered if Lu Ten had actually seen these fights, or if he was just assuming the reasons Zuko and Azula wouldn’t talk about their injuries. Ursa’s words that day came back to him with a chill– <em>It’s hard enough to protect Zuko from the worst of Ozai’s temper</em>.</p><p class="p1">At the time, he had assumed her concern didn’t extend beyond yelling and the occasional firebending of errant pieces of furniture. He knew as well as anyone that Ozai was quick to anger and prone to expressing himself loudly, and sometimes physically. But surely he’d never do… <em>that</em> to either of his children. </p><p class="p1"><em>No.</em> Iroh shook his head and put the letter aside, turning back to details of the war. He was just being paranoid now, and worrying himself over something he couldn’t control. Who was he to pry into the way Ozai managed his affairs?</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Now, so many years later, Iroh’s stomach still turns with shame when he remembers those years, distant from his family, wrapped up in war, watching Zuko struggle but doing nothing about it. That’s why he had to let Jet get arrested. After so many years of failing to protect Zuko, he has to make up for it now.</p><p class="p1">He stares down at the tea in his hands, long cold, but doesn’t risk heating it with firebending. He drinks it anyway. It’s his penance, he reasons, setting the cup aside and stretching out on his sleeping mat. Before falling asleep, he makes himself remember returning to the capital to pick up Lu Ten and see his family before setting off to conquer Ba Sing Se. Zuko and Azula were much taller than he remembered, like Lu Ten said, faces solemn and backs ramrod straight as they said their goodbyes. They were stiff when he went to touch them, and there was a bandage peeking out of the end of Zuko’s sleeve.</p><p class="p1">But Iroh pushed all of that away, and bid warm goodbyes to Ursa, Ozai, and Azulon, before leaving the caldera as Crown Prince for the very last time.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yeeeah…… remember when I said this was going to be 5 chapters?? RIP XD</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The River - Part III: Lost Souls</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>cw: descriptions of blood and death, and canonical character death (I'll give you one guess as to whose)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <em>“Little soldier boy, come marching home. </em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Brave soldier boy, comes marching home.”</em>
</p><p class="p1">On what would have been Lu Ten’s 27<span class="s1"><sup>th</sup></span> birthday, Iroh returns to their little apartment to find a pot of tea already brewed and waiting for him. Zuko is nowhere to be seen, but the tea is still hot so he can’t be far. The sliding door to the bedroom is closed, so he could be in there asleep, but the air is so silent and still Iroh is inclined to think he’s gone out. Zuko gets restless around the small space and often goes for long walks through nearby open-air markets. Sometimes he buys things with tips he’s saved from Pao’s– a pair of chopsticks with imprints of dragons stamped roughly into the thick ends, a chipped tea strainer with a lotus painted on the handle.</p><p class="p1">They seem like careless purchases, made on whims when the price is right and he has pennies to spare, but they give Iroh hope that Zuko’s beginning to accept their life here. Like he’s willing to put down roots– fill their home with tiny, cheap trinkets purchased for no other reason other than <em>he wanted to</em>. It’s something that’s different from the smooth, impersonal tables and shelves of the palace where they both grew up, and honestly, Iroh prefers it. He sometimes feels a little like a magpie-dove, sitting in his nest filled with shiny things collected for their beauty, but also a little more… human.</p><p class="p1">He sips the bitter tea and thinks about what Lu Ten would’ve bought at those open-air markets.</p><p class="p1">A few weeks later, Zuko falls asleep on the train back from the lake. Iroh would like to sleep as well– traipsing across the entire city and back on a wild bison-chase has been exhausting– but Zuko’s already out cold, cheek pressed against his arm and head bobbing with the motion of the train, so he stays awake so they don’t miss their stop.</p><p class="p1">That evening, he berates himself for not recognizing Zuko’s lethargy for what it is– a severe fever and a cough that sets in quickly and has Iroh hurrying to the nearest apothecary for some medicine. Sitting over Zuko’s bedside providing a constant stream of fresh water and cold cloths gives him a horrible feeling of déjà vu. When Zuko coughs so hard he retches into the empty water bucket, Iroh almost wants to gag as well, because it’s all so <em>familiar</em> and <em>close</em>– he could stand atop the Inner Wall and see the hill where Lu Ten died, and where he made his own Critical Decision.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Breaking through Ba Sing Se’s Outer Wall was a miracle, and among many other mistakes, Iroh had pushed too hard and too fast through the Agrarian Zone, too wet from irrigation to easily burn and too familiar to the army of earthbenders that met them there. Iroh fought on the frontlines, believing himself to be an inspiration to his men, Lu Ten right at his side.</p><p class="p1">It wasn’t earthbenders that killed him. Iroh sees this story peddled sometimes in Fire Nation propaganda, that earthbenders were responsible for Lu Ten’s death, and the war must be finished to avenge him. But it isn’t true. Lu Ten was fighting three earthbenders at once on top of that hill, armor glowing orange with the heat emanating from his limbs and trying to give himself room to generate lightning, but it was a non-bender that got him. One of the few women in the Earth Kingdom army, she came out of nowhere and slipped a knife beneath the lip Lu Ten’s breastplate, deep in between his ribs.</p><p class="p1">Iroh heard the cry of surprise and saw the blood begin to flow. He breathed a fire blast so hot it shattered the earthbenders’ walls, killing the one nearest to him and forcing the other two back. He charged desperately through the crowd, striking down the assassin in the process, but her death wasn’t satisfying because by the time he reached the center of the charred circle of grass, Lu Ten was unconscious, blood still pouring out of the wound in his stomach faster than anyone could hope to stop it.</p><p class="p1">His eyes didn’t open again, but Iroh held his cold, limp hand until the gasping stopped. When he looked up again and remembered the battle around them, their lines struggling to advance a few more meters towards the Inner Wall, and in that moment Decides.</p><p class="p1">As a firebender, Iroh never carried any weapons. He didn’t know how. So he didn’t have swords or knives or spears to cast aside when he stood up and began walking back towards the broken Outer Wall. He vaguely remembers throwing his gauntlets to the ground, as if he could truly shed himself of the weapon that burned in his limbs, but truthfully the next forty-eight hours are almost entirely missing from his memory. Iroh doesn’t know how hard his generals kept fighting after he walked off the battlefield, or for precisely how long, but he was told later that the Fire Nation army was pushed out within a day, and forced to retreat to the shores of the Western Lake.</p><p class="p1">The Earth Kingdom army pummeled the fortress there with everything they had, but Iroh had designed it well and the earthbenders were stretched thin, so they gave up as soon as they saw soldiers boarding boats in large numbers and setting a rapid pace to the west. Iroh, near insensible with fever in the fortress keep, was not on any of them.</p><p class="p1">His memories are clear again on the third day, when his fever started to break and the world wasn’t quite so hazy. Sei, one of his senior lieutenants, was leaning over him, a damp rag in her outstretched hand and looking genuinely worried.</p><p class="p1">“The last boat is leaving within the hour, my Lord,” she said. “Do you require assistance to board?”</p><p class="p1">“No.” Iroh shuddered at the thought of boarding a ship back to the Fire Nation. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t feel his inner flame at all, and had no desire to look for it. Fire hadn’t saved Lu Ten, and the idea of conquering the world with fire no longer seemed noble, or romantic.</p><p class="p1">When he closed his eyes all he could see was Lu Ten’s cold hand in his, and beneath that burned leaves of grass, crumbling into the black earth and mixing with the river of blood that ran down the hill.</p><p class="p1">Iroh never knew there could be that much blood in a person. It flowed out so quickly, pulsing in time with its fading heartbeat, carrying everything that used to be his son. They had no hope of retrieving the body. Lu Ten will never be properly cremated, or sent to the Spirit World with a prayer by the High Fire Sages. He will be buried in the Earth Kingdom, by earthbenders, out of the light and the heat of the sun, and away from the blessing of Agni.</p><p class="p1">Sei was speaking again, confused, but Iroh sat up, pushing her hands away and shaking his head. “I have to find him.”</p><p class="p1">“Find who, my Lord?” Sei was standing now, looking nervously in the direction of the lake.</p><p class="p1">“My son.”</p><p class="p1">Sei stammered, then choked when a whistle sounded from the dock.</p><p class="p1">“You should go,” Iroh said. Aside from the minimum force necessary to hold the fort, Sei was clearly the last ranking officer in the base. Everyone else must’ve dismissed him as crazy, or beyond hope. He thought absently they were probably right. “I need to find Lu Ten.”</p><p class="p1">“But– sir–” The whistle sounded again.</p><p class="p1">“It’s alright,” Iroh waved a hand at Sei, dismissing her. “Tell my father I’ll be back soon. And tell Ursa not to worry. There’s something I have to do.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The desert was hot, and the sun relentless. But even then Iroh’s inner flame was so dim he got sunburned, then collapsed with dehydration and simply laid there, staring up at large flying creatures circling overhead. He closed his eyes and wondered if this was the end– and when he woke he’d be transported into the Spirit World, to guide Lu Ten to Agni.</p><p class="p1">But instead he woke up under the stars, a cold nose under his palm belonging to a sleek grey fox with a scroll between its teeth. It was the first sign of life he’d encountered since entering the desert, and where there was life, there was water. Iroh sighed and decided that perhaps he wasn’t ready to give up on life after all.</p><p class="p1">There was a natural spring near the base of the buried library where the fox brought him. Iroh sustained himself on that and dry plants and berries the foxes delivered to him he had to trust were not poisonous. They seemed to want him there, unlike Wan Shi Tong, who had allowed him to stay when offered a detailed, pocket-sized engraving of Firelord Sozin, but still regarded him suspiciously from time to time.</p><p class="p1">In most places he had to light candles and lamps to read by, and he found himself meditating to them in the mornings (or what he thought was the mornings). Slowly, something like his inner flame began to flicker back to life and he was able to hold a flame in his hand for a few minutes at a time before letting it gutter out in shame.</p><p class="p1">When he slept, all he saw was destruction. The Outer Wall crumbling down, the crops burning, men dying on both sides all around him. In reality, not much he hadn’t seen before, in all his years fighting this war, but Lu Ten’s death had broken something he didn’t know was there. The dead soldiers weren’t faceless anymore– in his nightmares, he could see them, lying cold and still on the earth, eyes wide and mouths open in horror.</p><p class="p1">Often, Lu Ten’s face appeared like a mask on every corpse, but even when it didn’t their features were detailed, and unique. Each of them was somebody’s brother, somebody’s father, somebody’s son. None of them would ever see their families again, and their families would never see them.</p><p class="p1">And for what? The idea that his destiny was to conquer Ba Sing Se for the Fire Nation seemed ludicrous now– what could possibly be worth all of all this war, all this death?</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">There was a wing of the library dedicated to the the Fire Nation and firebending. Iroh noticed the signs, but avoided it for a long time. His inner flame may have been returning, but he felt no inclination to nurture it by reading whatever poison was surely contained within those scrolls. As far as he was concerned, firebending had corrupted him and his people and he couldn’t trust any of the writing on it.</p><p class="p1">He much preferred the section on the Water Tribes and waterbending, and after experimenting with some of the basic katas found them immensely soothing– quieting something deep in his chi that he didn’t know was boiling until it stopped. Some of the movements were even similar to firebending forms, and Iroh wondered if they could be incorporated into actual firebending. After several days (or weeks) spent ruminating on the subject, he finally decided to venture into the Fire Nation section, just to take a look around.</p><p class="p1">Of course, what he found there made his heart sink into his stomach and whatever inner flame he’d managed to find again guttered out to next to nothing. Someone had gotten here first.</p><p class="p1">The entire wing had been reduced to ashes– every book, every scroll, every map. Even the shelves were nothing but charred lumps of wood. His first thought, foolishly, was that he should’ve been able to stop whoever had done this. He had been a general in the most powerful nation in the world– he should’ve known, he should’ve done… something.</p><p class="p1">His second thought, which came with a wave of shame big enough make him gasp, was whether he would’ve even if he’d known. Before the Seige, before… Lu Ten, would he have stopped whoever had done this? Or would he have agreed that it was a strategically the best decision– to prevent anyone else from gaining any knowledge that could hinder their quest for dominance.</p><p class="p1">He turned away, unable to continue to look at the scene, and saw that one of the foxes had followed him, and was sniffing around the ashes near the wall. Iroh followed it, and upon closer inspection realized this must’ve been near the edge of the blaze, as some of the book covers were almost intact, their spines partially legible. The insides were ruined, but the fox ignored them and kept digging, until it pulled out a scrap of parchment that had been saved, protected under a broken ceremonial plate.</p><p class="p1">Iroh took the scrap of paper and found the writing still legible– <em>The 9</em><span class="s1"><em><sup>th</sup></em></span><em> day of the 7</em><span class="s1"><em><sup>th</sup></em></span><em> month of the Cultivate Rule Dragon Year was the darkest day in Fire Nation history</em>. There were clearly more details on below at one point, but the rest of the paper had been burned off. He turned it over, but the back was blank, too. He looked down to see if the fox had discovered anything else, but found it sitting by the entrance to the wing, looking back as if waiting for him to follow.</p><p class="p1">So he did. All the way across the library to a huge golden door, which opened for him after the fox slipped through a hole near the floor.</p><p class="p1">Iroh had heard of planetariums before. The Air Nomads were said to have built them in some of their temples, and the Sun Warriors before that. But he’d never seen any as ornate and elaborate as this one, nor one that was actually functional. Setting the parchment carefully on the floor, he manipulated the dials after some experimentation to the 9<span class="s1"><sup>th</sup></span> day of the 7<span class="s1"><sup>th</sup></span> month of the Cultivate Rule Dragon Year, then watched as the mechanical sun and moon rose and set overhead in a dizzying pattern until converging upon each other such that the moon blocked out the sun.</p><p class="p1">Even in the artificial dark of the planetarium, Iroh could feel his inner flame recede. There was no question as to what this meant. A day without firebending.</p><p class="p1">It took a minute for the information to sink in, but then he knew what he had to do. Furiously, he began turning the dials until he caught up to the current date, or what he thought was the current date, then slowed down as he moved through the following years. There had to be a reason the fox chose to show this to him. The planets moved in a regular cycle, this had to happen again.</p><p class="p1">It took a while, and his arms were getting tired, but he finally found it. The date of the next eclipse– five years from now, a few short months before the return of Sozin’s Comet.</p><p class="p1">The strategist in him immediately recognized the significance of that information. If he were commanding the Earth Kingdom or Water Tribe armies, there would be no better day to launch an offensive directly on the capital. He wondered if the last firebenders to find this library knew about the eclipse, then quickly dismissed the idea. He’d know about it if the military had discovered a piece of intelligence so crucial, and the evidence would’ve been more thoroughly destroyed.</p><p class="p1"><em>Speaking of which</em>… He returned the dials to their original places and bent to pick up the scrap of paper. He needed to leave this where someone would find it again– the Fire Nation clearly thought they’d destroyed everything they needed to, in all likelihood the next person to visit the library would be from the Earth Kingdom. He had to make sure they saw it.</p><p class="p1">After wandering through the shelves for a while, he finally found a good place– a pedestal with glass cover, holding a map of ancient caverns supposedly located under Ba Sing Se. He pried open the glass and removed the map, replacing it with the burnt scrap of parchment positioned neatly in the center.</p><p class="p1">That night, as he laid down to sleep, he tried to ignore the pool of guilt forming in his stomach. If he were a braver man, he would’ve taken that information directly to Ba Sing Se, and turned over his country to the Earth King. But even the thought of returning to that horrible city made his throat close up in grief and shame. Could he bear to face all the destruction he and his army had wrought? Could he bear to return to the place of Lu Ten’s death?</p><p class="p1">He turned onto his side, his nose almost touching the brown fur of the fox curled up next to him. In his heart, he supposed, with everything stripped away, he was a coward.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">When Iroh opened his eyes again, he wasn’t in the library anymore. He had a vague notion that this was supposed to shock him, but somehow he didn’t feel particularly surprised. The fox was still with him, after all, cold nose just touching his forehead as it slept. But instead of his makeshift pallet, he was lying on soft dirt, at the crest of a small hillock in the middle of a swamp. At least– it looked like a swamp. It didn’t feel like a swamp– it wasn’t hot or humid, and the air wasn’t filled with the sound of buzzing insects.</p><p class="p1">He stood up and began walking aimlessly. It wasn’t a natural swamp, he was certain, and he had no idea how he’d return to the library, but he found that this didn’t bother him all that much.</p><p class="p1">He walked for a long time, through puddles and marshes and rocky outcroppings all bathed in a dull sepia light that didn’t cast a shadow. When he looked at the water he couldn’t see his reflection but flickers of others– a wolf, a panda, an aye-aye. But none of these figures appeared when he looked up or turned around.</p><p class="p1">He kept walking, eventually leaving the water behind in favor of a rocky plain. It must’ve been miles from where he woke up next to the fox, but he didn’t feel tired or out of breath. He walked until he reached the edge of a canyon, the edges framed by pointed rock formations curling out of the earth like claws, and the valley filled with a strange, heavy mist.</p><p class="p1">He paused at the edge, taking in the view. The air felt… different here. His thoughts felt looser, jumbled, a feeling that wasn’t altogether bad. He took a deep breath and the feeling grew stronger. Without his permission, his mind flashed back to the hill in Ba Sing Se, watching the knife go into Lu Ten’s chest, and the blood pouring out onto the grass.</p><p class="p1">It was painful, but no more so than he deserved.</p><p class="p1">Another deep breath, and he allowed the scene to play in his mind again. The tip of the knife glowed in the light of Lu Ten’s fire, his son’s cry of pain and surprise ringing out over the muted sounds of the battle around them. Lu Ten’s hand in his– white and limp and very, very cold.</p><p class="p1">“Don’t go any further.”</p><p class="p1">Iroh blinked and realized he was standing at the very edge of the canyon, then that the voice had come from behind him. He turned around and saw a young woman, standing beneath one of the stone claws and looking at him through piercing amber eyes.</p><p class="p1">Her skin was almost as pale as her dress, but under her wide-brimmed hat and flowing veil he could see her face and shoulders where marked with curving stripes of red paint. “Step back from the edge of the canyon.”</p><p class="p1">He did as she said, too stunned to object. “What– what is that place?” he asked, voice weak and shaking.</p><p class="p1">“Somewhere you don’t belong,” she said.</p><p class="p1">“Are you sure?” Iroh wondered if he was crazy– contradicting a spirit directly– but it seemed like a logical question.</p><p class="p1">“I’m sure.” The woman looked over his shoulder at the mist. “The fog is for those who are lost.”</p><p class="p1">“So why don’t I belong there?” <em>Yes, I’m definitely crazy</em>, he decided. <em>I’ve already descended into the valley and this is the vision it’s giving me</em>.</p><p class="p1">“You haven’t gone into the valley,” the woman said, like she could hear his thoughts exactly. “And you do not deserve what would happen to you there.”</p><p class="p1">“I… I don’t?” he said faintly, wondering if he should ask her what that was, and if he even wanted to know.</p><p class="p1">“There are other ways to heal and atone for the death of your son,” she said. “And you’ll find them back in the mortal world.”</p><p class="p1"><em>So I am in the Spirit World</em>, he thought. He supposed he must’ve known that from the beginning, but to hear it confirmed made him dizzy again. “How?” he asked, holding his head in his hands, trying to think through the visions of Lu Ten that still crowded his mind. “How will I ever atone for everything I’ve done?”</p><p class="p1">The woman was silent, and when Iroh looked up to ask her again, he was alone, save for thefox picking its way through the rocks toward him.</p><p class="p1">Overcome by the familiarity, he rushed up to meet it and sank to his knees, taking its small form in his arms and running his fingers through its fur. He buried his face in the fur at the nape of its neck, and when he opened his eyes he was in the library again, curled up on his pallet and sobbing quietly into the fox’s shoulder.</p><p class="p1">When his breath finally steadied, he looked around him at the small corner he’d carved out for himself during his stay. His rough pallet and candles, a small store of food, books and scrolls he’d read a dozen times.</p><p class="p1">He felt with all his being weak and spent, and like it wouldn’t be so bad to return to the swamp and leave the mortal world behind forever. But perhaps that was his punishment after all– to continue living in this world full of so much ugliness and loss. To figure out who he was. And what he really wanted.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">He left the library that day, taking a bundle of food and small flask of water and clambering out a high window above the sand. The sun was high overhead and he was immediately thirsty, which made him anxious about his water supply, but he needn’t have worried. Less than a day’s walk from the library he came upon a fleet of sand sailors, and was picked up by their captain, who brought him to a settlement he called the Misty Palms Oasis.</p><p class="p1">Iroh thought the term <em>oasis</em> rather an exaggeration, but the decrepit little town had a tavern, and he was thirsty. After buying a cold drink with a few of the coins left in his purse, he looked around for a place to sit and realized the establishment had a Pai Sho table. Without thinking too hard about it, he wandered over and took a seat across from the man already sitting there.</p><p class="p1">“May I have this game?” he said, before touching any of the tiles laid out on his side.</p><p class="p1">The man nodded. “The guest has the first move.”</p><p class="p1">It was a slow, cautious game, the other man appearing to take all his cues from Iroh, never pushing forward but never giving any ground.</p><p class="p1">Iroh felt hesitant. He’d never played the game like this before, so differently from the aggressive offense-heavy style he was used to using against Ozai, Piandao, and Jeong Jeong. The thought of his old friends brought to mind his last game with Jeong Jeong, and he spotted his unused white lotus tile. Glancing back at the board, he saw an opening and took it, clumsily replicating one of the moves Jeong Jeong had used to beat him all those years ago.</p><p class="p1">He won, and the other man bowed. “I see you favor the white lotus gambit. Not many still cling to the ancient ways.”</p><p class="p1">Iroh bowed in return. “I confess I’m a novice in the ancient ways. My skill with the lotus tile is awkward and unrefined.”</p><p class="p1">“Perhaps.” The man’s mouth curved into a hint of a smile. “But I can already see potential.”</p><p class="p1">“Your words are a great honor,” Iroh said. “Although I fear it is not deserved.”</p><p class="p1">“Where are you going, Traveler?” the man said, abruptly changing the subject.</p><p class="p1">“I’m not sure,” Iroh admitted. “For now I am just a wanderer.”</p><p class="p1">“I would advise you go to Omashu,” said the man.</p><p class="p1">“Respectfully,” Iroh bowed again, “I do not know anyone who resides in that city. I wouldn’t know who to approach.”</p><p class="p1">“Do not worry about such things,” the man said lightly, gathering up the Pai Sho tiles to reset them. “Those who are willing to learn the ancient ways can always find a friend.”</p><p class="p1">Iroh waited, but the man didn’t offer any more details, so he finished his drink and left the tavern, using the remainder of his silver pieces to pay for a night at the inn. He wasn’t terribly familiar with the geography of this region, but at least there were roads in and out of the oasis, clearly if cheaply marked with signposts. If any of the distance markers were accurate, it was a long way to Omashu.</p><p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The road was indeed long and winding, but Iroh wasn’t in a hurry. After a lifetime of living by a rigid schedule, it was liberating to not keep track of time. Every day he walked until he was tired, then slept in copses and ditches by the side of the road, and ate what pennies could buy or what kind strangers would offer him.</p><p class="p1">It was more grueling than the harshest firebending instruction or military combat training. The first time he knelt at a stream to drink he realized his hair was turning grey and almost laughed out loud. He wondered when it started– during his fever after the siege, or in the desert, deep in the spirit library. It didn’t really matter, he decided. Clothed in little more than rags with greying hair and a haggard face he was far from recognizable as the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation.</p><p class="p1"><em>It’s only right,</em> he thought. <em>If I saw the portrait of myself from five years ago would I even recognize myself?</em></p><p class="p1">He could picture it– hanging floor-to-ceiling in the halls next to his forefathers, and wondered idly if he’d ever see it again.</p><p class="p1">In the very next thought he realized he didn’t care about that, either.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Omashu was guarded by earthbenders and they demanded rudely, suspiciously, that he state his business.</p><p class="p1">He bowed low, picturing with something akin to amusement how differently Ozai would’ve reacted to such disrespect, and said, “Just a weary traveler, searching for some food and shelter for the night.”</p><p class="p1">The guards glanced at each other, then seemed to agree he posed no threat and opened the wall.</p><p class="p1">Iroh had never seen the true interior of Ba Sing Se, and he wondered if it was anything like Omashu.</p><p class="p1"><em>Probably flatter,</em> he thought, huffing as he climbed the stairs leading deeper into the city. Pausing to catch his breath, he realized he’d stumbled into the market district, tempting smells and the sound of grilling meat drifting toward him on the wind.</p><p class="p1">His stomach rumbled and he walked towards them, even though he had no money to buy anything. As he reached the thoroughfare, he heard merchants calling out from both sides of the road, hawking their various dishes and wares.</p><p class="p1">He steadfastly ignored them, until he heard, “Roast duck! Get your fresh roast duck here!”</p><p class="p1"><em>Roast duck</em>.</p><p class="p1">“Only two silver pieces- no better deal in the city!” The merchant extended a leaf-wrapped packet of rice and meat, and unconsciously Iroh raised his hands to take it. He could feel the heat rising from the food when he remembered himself and began to step back.</p><p class="p1">Just as he was about to politely decline, there was a shout from across the road. “There he is!”</p><p class="p1">He turned and saw two uniformed earthbenders striding towards him.</p><p class="p1">The merchant squawked and snatched the parcel back. “There who is?”</p><p class="p1">“This man.” One of the earthbenders caught Iroh’s arm and he stumbled backwards.</p><p class="p1">“Sir, I’m sure you are mistaken–” Had he misinterpreted the guards at the gate? Had they seen something that had given him away?</p><p class="p1">“There’s no mistake,” the earthbender said. “Ping identified you as the man who stole three heads of lettuce from his stall this morning.”</p><p class="p1">“What? I didn’t steal any lettuce! I don’t know who you’re talking about!”</p><p class="p1">He was ignored. “We’re taking you to see the king.”</p><p class="p1">“The king?” It took Iroh a second to remember. The Earth Kingdom was strange like this– despite the King in Ba Sing Se, the leader of Omashu also called himself “King,” although he didn’t command the national army. Iroh always imagined him to be a minor feudal lord with delusions of grandeur.</p><p class="p1">“Ping is the palace’s official provider of lettuce.”</p><p class="p1">Iroh wondered if he should resist, but realized quickly that without firebending he had little chance against earthbenders. So he allowed himself to be badgerfrog-marched up several more flights of stairs, two earth-bending powered elevators, and a very long ramp to the palace.</p><p class="p1">He was brought into a long room he supposed was the throne room and made to kneel.</p><p class="p1">The guards on either side of him bowed. “Your majesty, we have found him, just as you requested.”</p><p class="p1">“Well done.” The King of Omashu had a high pitched voice creaky with age, and when Iroh looked up he saw that he was indeed very old, sitting hunched on his throne baring a row of gap-ridden teeth.</p><p class="p1">“Tell me,” he addressed the guards. “Do you know who this man is?”</p><p class="p1">“A lettuce thief, Sire,” said the guard on Iroh’s left.</p><p class="p1">The king made a snorting sound that sounded almost like laughter. “Wrong!”</p><p class="p1">The guard shifted on his feet, confused. “I’m… sorry, Sire?”</p><p class="p1">Out of nowhere, the king produced a lettuce leaf and took a loud bite. “Chamberlain, prepare the Good Chamber for our guest.”</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Wait, what?</em>
</p><p class="p1">“Uhh… your Majesty?” An official-looking man to the king’s right looked nervously between them.</p><p class="p1">“Not the Bad Chamber– that one is really overdue for refurbishment.” The king let out another wild laugh and Iroh began to wonder if it wouldn’t be worth it to reveal his identity to get away from this madness.</p><p class="p1">“Yes sir.” The chamberlain scurried away and the king stood up.</p><p class="p1">Iroh realized he was much taller than he appeared, and although his shoulders were still rounded with age, where his sleeves rode up revealed wiry, defined muscle. Faintly, he remembered a text on Avatar Kyoshi that referred to people blessed by the spirits to lead unnaturally long lives. He wondered if this king was among them.</p><p class="p1">“My friends,” said the king, pacing in front of Iroh. “What we have here is no lettuce thief, but in fact, a man far more dangerous than any of you have ever encountered before!”</p><p class="p1">Iroh felt his blood run cold.</p><p class="p1">“Tell me,” said the king, “have any of you heard of the Dragon of the West?”</p><p class="p1">The guard on Iroh’s right gasped. “No!”</p><p class="p1">“Oh, yes.” The king pointed a crooked finger at him. “Stand up, General Iroh, and tell them who you are.”</p><p class="p1">Slowly, Iroh obeyed, holding his palms up and keeping his eyes on the ground. He was pretty sure this was the end, and he decided he’d die an honorable man. “It’s true, your Majesty. My name is Iroh, son of the Firelord and–”</p><p class="p1">“Son of the Firelord, you say?” the king interrupted, leaning closer as if to inspect him</p><p class="p1">Iroh braced himself against the whiff of rotting teeth and lettuce.</p><p class="p1">“Aren’t you a little old to be the son of the Firelord?”</p><p class="p1">“What are you talking about?”</p><p class="p1">“I seem to remember that the Firelord’s son is barely twelve years old.”</p><p class="p1">“He– No, that can’t be right,” Iroh said, although a horrible possibility dawned on him as he spoke.</p><p class="p1">“In fact,” the king continued, “I believe you are even older than the Firelord himself.”</p><p class="p1">“No…” Iroh wanted to sink back to his knees. His father had shown no signs of ill health when he left, but he was old, thing’s could’ve changed. Or someone could’ve… hurried the process along. The list of people who could’ve done that and gotten away with it was very short, and he shuddered to think of the names at the top.</p><p class="p1">“But,” the king said, “the Firelord’s brother is still a prince, so we’ve prepared the Good Chamber for you.” He grinned widely, as if he was making a hilarious joke.</p><p class="p1">Iroh didn’t understand. Shouldn’t he be in chains right now? Thrown into a dungeon as a prisoner of war, messenger hawks sent to the royal palace to barter for the lives of captured Earth Kingdom generals?</p><p class="p1">The guards were apparently confused, too. “But your Majesty–”</p><p class="p1">“That will be all.” The king waved his hand to dismiss them. “Now, it’s time for the Prince and I to play a game.”</p><p class="p1">“What sort of game?” Iroh watched as all the guards and various staff left the room, and noticed too late the thick metal cuffs on the king’s wrists and ankles characteristic of earthbenders. Did this mad king want to duel him? The last time he’d conjured a flame to do more than heat food or light a dark room was in Ba Sing Se– he couldn’t imagine summoning more than would fit in his palm, much less enough to engage in combat.</p><p class="p1">The king took a stance and Iroh held up his hands, praying to Agni he could muster the will to at least defend himself. He flinched when the king stomped his foot, but the blow never landed. Through the low cloud of dust, Iroh could make out the shape of a familiar board, and two sets of tiles.</p><p class="p1">“Pai Sho, of course!”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sooooo here's the thing, friends. :/ My roommate spilled water all over my laptop and while it still functions while plugged into an external monitor and I didn't lose any work, I'm sending it off to get the display fixed tomorrow, so I wanted to get this chapter out before being rendered laptop-less for 1-2 weeks. Because I normally write exclusively on my computer and posting from mobile is hell, I will be quiet on here for at least that long :( but hopefully this chapter will be able to tide you guys over somewhat. </p><p>Thanks so much for your patience, I hope you are enjoying this story!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The River - Part IV: The Firelady</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>WHOOPS wow I'm so sorry for letting this fic languish for so effing long! Needless to say chapter 5 has been a real challenge to write, but after four (4) months of chipping away at it I feel like I've made enough progress to post chapter 4, which has admittedly been finished for months.</p><p>Don't worry everyone- I will finish this fic!! I know it's been a slog but I can't thank you guys enough for sticking with it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">It took five days for Iroh to ask King Bumi the question that had been on his mind from the start. “Do you know the man in the Misty Palms Oasis?”</p><p class="p1">“I know many people in many places,” he said, squinting over the Pai Sho table.</p><p class="p1">“Even the Fire Nation?”</p><p class="p1">Bumi tapped a finger on his chin. “I believe I once entertained a Commander in your navy. A nice man.” He snickered, making his move. “Angry.”</p><p class="p1">“Really?” Iroh countered it easily. Bumi’s style was strange, appearing at first to be very straightforward, but upon closer examination was an extremely intricate agglomeration of tricks and strategies that made every game wildly different and always presented a stimulating challenge.</p><p class="p1">“You might say he was… unbalanced!” Bumi jerked his head and the floor tilted under them.</p><p class="p1">Iroh scrambled to catch himself and watched in dismay as all the Pai Sho pieces slid onto the floor. “You did that because I had you!”</p><p class="p1">“Maybe!” Bumi righted the room and propelled himself upright with a pillar of rock. “Jeong Jeong wanted to know about balance.”</p><p class="p1">“Wait– you’ve met Jeong Jeong?” Iroh began collecting the Pai Sho tiles and re-setting the board.</p><p class="p1">“So I told him,” Bumi went on as if he hadn’t spoken, poking around a bookshelf in the corner of the room, “that if he wanted to know about balance he should ask the Avatar.”</p><p class="p1">“That’s impossible.”</p><p class="p1">“Is it?” He began emptying the topmost shelf, piling its contents haphazardly on several side tables. “Have you ever met the Avatar?”</p><p class="p1">“No one’s met the Avatar.”</p><p class="p1">Another snorting laugh. “That’s what <em>you</em> think, young man!”</p><p class="p1">Iroh almost laughed, but then stopped to consider the fact that Omashu had been ruled by the same king for the entirety of Azulon’s reign. </p><p class="p1">“You know the problem with the Avatar?” said Bumi once the top shelf was empty. “After he or she dies, the next one is a child for eighteen years. Who looks after the balance of the universe then? Who makes sure the child doesn’t grow up to be a total fruitcake?”</p><p class="p1">“I guess I don’t know.”</p><p class="p1">“Don’t be silly, of course you do.” Hand closed into a fist, Bumi reached a long arm through the back of the bookshelf and into the wall, leaning in until he was up to his shoulder. With a faint rumble of shifting rock, he pulled out an old book and tossed it across the room.</p><p class="p1">Iroh caught it and brushed the dust off the cover, worn and faded with age. There was no title, only a drawing of a Pai Sho board. The tiles were arranged to form a lotus, with the white lotus tile in the center.</p><p class="p1">Delicately, he opened it to the first page– blank except for the words, <em>Who knocks at the garden gate?</em></p><p class="p1">He frowned, and turned the page again. <em>One who has eaten the fruit and tasted its mysteries</em>.</p><p class="p1">“It’s rather dull reading if I do say so myself,” Bumi said. “But it’ll answer all your questions. And create a few hundred more.” He snickered.</p><p class="p1">“I don’t mind dull reading,” Iroh said. “As long as I have some tea to keep up my energy.”</p><p class="p1">“Naturally!” Bumi flagged down a passing servant. “Although I’ve heard you’re quite thedevotee– get it? Devo-<em>tea</em>?”</p><p class="p1">Iroh stared until he realized he was supposed to respond. “I suppose you could say that.”</p><p class="p1">“So you’ll have to tell me whether my Master of Tea Ceremonies is any good,” he continued. “I met him on the road to Gaipan selling counterfeit passports.”</p><p class="p1">“And you hired him to brew tea for you?”</p><p class="p1">“He was looking for a career change.”</p><p class="p1">Iroh couldn’t argue with that logic. Upon consideration it did seem an honorable thing to give a desperate man a second chance, but he rethought that opinion as soon as he tried the oolong.</p><p class="p1">“Perhaps he’s missed the mark,” Bumi said, slurping loudly from his own cup.</p><p class="p1">“Err… maybe a bit.” Iroh pushed his cup away and looked for something to cleanse his palate. “If you invite your Master of Tea Ceremonies back perhaps I can show him a few tricks.”</p><p class="p1">“Oh I’m sure he’s gone home for the day.” Bumi waved his hand. “Show me, and I’ll pass the message along.”</p><p class="p1">“Alright.” He put the surprisingly plain clay teapot back on the little stove and re-lit the fire using spark rocks. “This is an ideal pot for oolong, but oolong requires a higher than usual leaf-to-water ratio, so you must not over-fill it. The water can be heated to almost boiling, but since we’re at a higher altitude this will be difficult to judge based on the usual indicators.”</p><p class="p1">Bumi listened to his instruction with rapt attention, and sent for more leaves when Iroh couldn’t bring himself to drink the second pot.</p><p class="p1">As they waited for the water to heat again, Iroh read from the book, slowly making connections to the bits and pieces of information he’d read in Ozai’s collection, the Royal Fire Nation Library, and the library in the desert.</p><p class="p1">He paused at the section on spirituality. “So it’s true,” he said. “The Avatar serves as the bridge between our world and the Spirit World.”</p><p class="p1">“So they tell us.” Bumi lifted the lid of the teapot and squinted down at the water. “I’m not sure the Spirit World is really that inaccessible.” He looked up with knowing eyes.</p><p class="p1">“Perhaps not.” Iroh looked at his hands, recalling his strange dream in the library. “But do you think the Avatar could enter the Spirit World intentionally?”</p><p class="p1">“Probably.” Bumi took the teapot off the heat and measured out the leaves. “But not even he could accomplish what you’re thinking of.”</p><p class="p1">“And what was I thinking of?”</p><p class="p1">“Even the Avatar couldn’t help you find your son.”</p><p class="p1">Iroh swallowed and folded his hands. “I know that.” And he <em>did</em> know, in his heart, so why was it so difficult to accept? He sat silent, frozen for so long that Bumi poured the tea so the leaves wouldn’t over-steep.</p><p class="p1">“The war has taken something from all of us,” he said, in a tone so uncharacteristically solemn Iroh looked up in surprise. It was the first time he’d made any mention of the war.</p><p class="p1">“Who have you lost?” he asked at length.</p><p class="p1">“Nearly everyone.” For a moment, Bumi’s smile seemed to shift, or a shadow passed over his face, and Iroh became aware of how <em>quiet</em> the palace was. As someone who’d spent most of his life in palaces, some things were familiar– oversized halls, vaulted ceilings, cold, impersonal decorations. But even during the day, Omashu’s palace was nearly silent aside from the soft movements of servants and the shrill laughter of the king himself.</p><p class="p1">Belatedly, it occurred to Iroh that Bumi lived here alone, and that it hadn’t always been this way. “I’m sorry,” he said. “These past months… I’m ashamed of what my nation has done. Of what <em>I</em> have done.”</p><p class="p1">“Mm.” The shadow lifted from Bumi’s face and his wild, crooked-tooth grin returned. “And what do you plan to do about that?”</p><p class="p1">“I don’t know.” Iroh said. “I don’t think I could ever go back…”</p><p class="p1">“Why not?”</p><p class="p1">He stared. “How could I be a part of that again? What they’ve done– what we’ve done– is awful, but they’re my family. I don’t think I could fight them.” He made a small flame in his hand, then quickly extinguished it. “I don’t think I could fight anyone, not anymore.”</p><p class="p1">Bumi produced a stick of jennamite from his sleeve and took a bite. “Have you ever heard of <em>jing</em>?”</p><p class="p1">“It’s the way one directs one’s energy in battle.” Iroh recited a line from the most basic firebending lessons. “In the Fire Nation, we are primarily taught about positive jing.”</p><p class="p1">“Naturally,” Bumi said. “But it’s a shame.”</p><p class="p1">“Why is that?”</p><p class="p1">He washed down the rock candy with a long slurp of tea. “Back in my day, we were taught about more than one type of jing.”</p><p class="p1">“I’ve learned about other types of jing,” Iroh said. “But I don’t see how they can be helpful to me now. I’ve already retreated, and I can’t do nothing.”</p><p class="p1">“Why not?”</p><p class="p1">“Because… it would be wrong.” Wouldn’t it? To return to the Fire Nation and do nothing about the war?</p><p class="p1">“Says who?” Bumi said. “What would positive jing accomplish? Starting a civil war you would almost certainly lose?” He stood up and paced the room. “Earthbending relies on neutral jing, but does that make us pacifists?”</p><p class="p1">Iroh vividly remembered the battles outside Ba Sing Se. “No.”</p><p class="p1">Bumi took a stance. “Fighting firebenders is easy when you let them attack first. Instead of wasting energy trying to outmatch an aggressive offense, the key is to wait and listen for the right moment to strike.”</p><p class="p1">Iroh nodded, and reluctantly stood up and took his own stance across from Bumi. Neutral jing in mind, he waited as long as he could to attack, but Bumi was like a rock himself, endlessly patient and completely still. </p><p class="p1">Every instinct he had told him to attack, and eventually he couldn’t resist it. But as soon as he stepped forward to fire, the earth shifted beneath him and he staggered.</p><p class="p1">“See?” Bumi said. “Easy.”</p><p class="p1">“I take your point.” Iroh brushed the dust off his tunic and returned to the Pai Sho table.</p><p class="p1">“If you feel like you can’t fight,” Bumi said, “then don’t. There are eighty-four other ways you could direct your energy.”</p><p class="p1">Iroh’s tea had grown cold, and he warmed it with his hands.</p><p class="p1">Bumi looked around the room, lit only by two torches framing the window and completely empty except the guards posted at the door. “There’s no one left here but me.” His words echoed in the hollow room. “But there’s probably someone you left in your home.”</p><p class="p1"><em>Zuko</em>. Iroh’s stomach lurched as he thought of his nephew, bullied by his sister and disdained by his father, only Ursa to protect him. His heart sank into his stomach and he lowered his head. He was ashamed he hadn’t remembered sooner, too lost in his grief for his own son.</p><p class="p1">“There’s no way to help the dead,” Bumi said softly, as if he knew what Iroh was thinking. “But there are people alive who still need you.”</p><p class="p1">“You’re right,” Iroh whispered. “I have to return.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Iroh was never clear on exactly how it was all arranged, only that the subtle reach of the White Lotus extended far deeper and wider than he ever imagined. Eventually, he found himself at a port near Gaipan, an area recently taken by the Fire Nation.</p><p class="p1">Colonel Mongke met him at the small makeshift base. “There’s a ship bound for the Capital leaving at dawn tomorrow, My Lord,” he said gruffly. “It’s carrying timber and metal for the refineries, essential supplies, so it’s set to make a few stops first, but you should reach the caldera in a weeks’ time.”</p><p class="p1">“Many thanks.” Iroh bowed. “It’s good to be going home. I’ve been lost for a long time.”</p><p class="p1">“We are all thanking Agni for your return,” Mongke said, although the stiffness in his shoulders and shiftiness in his eyes said otherwise.</p><p class="p1">Although he tried not to betray it, Iroh felt similarly uncomfortable. Before being granted his own unit, Mongke had once been his subordinate, and a loyal secondary in battle. But things were different now. Neither of them were sure of their position relative to the other anymore– Iroh was fairly certain he hadn’t been declared a traitor, but disappearing for months after a humiliating defeat under his command put him in a delicate position.</p><p class="p1">“So tell me,” he said, his tone carefully casual, “what news is there from the Capital? You can understand I have not been able to stay informed.”</p><p class="p1">Mongke grunted. “Not much news. The Firelord was crowned according to his father’s dying wish. Under his command, we’re expanding the colonies across the river, and preparing to take Omashu within the year.”</p><p class="p1">The strategist in Iroh found this goal extremely ambitious, but he simply nodded and glanced around the small office, littered with maps and broken weaponry. Omashu wasn’t like the small villages lining the river that divided the colonies from the Earth Kingdom holdouts. Mongke’s raiding parties would barely be sufficient to reach the edge of the desert.</p><p class="p1">He was about to ask for a cup of tea when the heavy brocade curtain rustled behind him and the Rough Rhinos’ archer entered, messenger hawk scroll in hand. “Sir, I have–” he coughed and bowed when he saw Iroh’s face. “Deepest apologies, My Lord, I didn’t see–”</p><p class="p1">“What is it, Vachir?”</p><p class="p1">Vachir stiffened and turned abruptly to Mongke. “A message from Commander Shinu. Pohuai Stronghold will be at capacity within the month. At that time we are to support the re-arming of the base on the shores of the Western Lake.”</p><p class="p1">Monkge absorbed the information as if Iroh wasn’t even there, then turned to both of them. “Thank you.”</p><p class="p1">Iroh understood a dismissal when he saw it and stood, bowing with Vachir as he turned to leave. “Thank you for all your help, Mongke,” he said. “It was an honor to serve with you.”</p><p class="p1">“And with you,” Mongke said stiffly.</p><p class="p1">“One more question,” Iroh said as Vachir departed. “In your news from the Capital, has there been any word from the Firelady?” <em>Ursa.</em> <em>Is Ursa okay?</em></p><p class="p1">For the briefest second, Mongke’s brows seemed to furrow in confusion, doubt, or both, before smoothing again into impassivity. He looked back at his desk, re-reading the scroll Vachir had delivered. “You’ve been away a long time, My Lord,” he said. “There is no Firelady.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Iroh pondered those words for days, long after leaving Mongke’s base, getting his sea legs on the small cargo ship and trying to avoid curious glances from the crew. He’d been granted state quarters on the ship and the captain showed him deference, but it was clear no one quite knew what his position was– on the ship or in the Fire Nation as a whole.</p><p class="p1">He took to referring to himself as “retired” when the first mate tried to call him <em>General</em>, but beyond that he had no answer as to his official title. <em>Prince</em>, he supposed, would be the most accurate, but who knew what Ozai would choose to call him once he returned, in disgrace and passed over for the throne in such a dramatic and decisive fashion. </p><p class="p1">But those worries seemed small when compared for his new concern for Ursa. No one he asked seemed to know anything beyond what Mongke had told him– that there was only a Firelord, no Firelady. A party line if Iroh had ever heard one, although he couldn’t be sure of its origin. His first, darkest thought was that she must be dead, but that didn’t feel right.</p><p class="p1">Ursa was a princess, she couldn’t have died without a state funeral, and that couldn’t have been held in secret. (Could it?) Perhaps she was still alive, and at the palace with her children, but had fallen so far out of favor that Ozai had refused to make her his Firelady.</p><p class="p1">That didn’t feel too far outside the realm of possibility, although Iroh could admit that it was still a stretch. Ozai’s ways were bound to cause waves among the court and council, and it seemed unlikely the upper echelons of Fire Nation nobility would universally concede to <em>not</em> refer to the Firelord’s wife as the Firelady. That only left one option– if she wasn’t dead or at the palace, she must be alive, but no longer at the court.</p><p class="p1"><em>Not much better for Zuko and Azula</em>, Iroh thought, frowning out the viewport on the bridge. He could only imagine what their lives must be like now, under their father’s thumb without any buffer between them.</p><p class="p1"><em>So where would she go? </em>he wondered. Where did one go when they were forced to flee their home?</p><p class="p1">Low over the western horizon, Iroh could see the faint shadow mountains that formed the Fire Nation archipelago.</p><p class="p1"><em>Of course</em>, he thought. <em>The capital was never really her home</em>.</p><p class="p1">“Captain,” he turned to the man standing at the helm. “Are we set to make a stop on the island containing Hira’a?”</p><p class="p1">The navigator checked his map. “Yes, My Lord. We plan to dock at a port nearby to unload.”</p><p class="p1">Iroh leaned over to look at the city the navigator was indicating. “I shall be making a short trip inland during that time,” he said. “If that won’t cause too much inconvenience.”</p><p class="p1">“None at all.” The captain bowed his head. “Shall I arrange a guard to accompany you?”</p><p class="p1">“That won’t be necessary,” Iroh said. “Just don’t depart without me.”</p><p class="p1">“Of course, My Lord.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The morning they docked on the island, their second port since reaching the Fire Nation, Iroh slipped off the ship early in the morning, a plain cloak covering his clothes and the hood pulled over his face. The walk from the port up the hills was bracing, but it felt good after days trapped on a ship.</p><p class="p1">The town, when he spotted it in the distance, was tiny, only a small collection of low buildings scattered among a few main roads. Far humbler origins than he’d imagined for Ursa, even though he knew she was a commoner. It made him feel strangely ill to imagine Ozai and Azulon parading through town, surrounded by a royal procession and demanding to speak to Ursa’s father. The townspeople had probably never seen anything like it before or since, and he could imagine them emerging from their houses and prostrating themselves on their porches, at once terrified and in awe of the personages before them.</p><p class="p1">He grunted and pulled the hood a little further over his face.</p><p class="p1">Although the buildings were few, he realized as he neared the town he had no idea where to look, and he didn’t have time to knock on every door if he wanted to be back in time for the cargo ship to set sail. Asking for Ursa herself was likely to arouse suspicion, so he closed his eyes and thought back to her wedding. He’d met her parents, briefly– what were their names? </p><p class="p1">He walked up to a small house near the edge of town, the first one to show signs of life with a light flickering in the front window, and knocked on the door.</p><p class="p1">A man in early middle age answered, two dual dao strapped to his back. “Can I help you?”</p><p class="p1">“I’m looking for the home of Rina and Jinzuk,” said Iroh. “Can you point me in that direction?”</p><p class="p1">“Their house is up the hill.” He pointed to the other side of town, his face grim. “But it’d be empty now. They’re dead. Have been for years.”</p><p class="p1"><em>Dead</em>. He should’ve considered that possibility. “Thank you, Sir.” Iroh bowed, and remembered his manners. “May I ask for your name?”</p><p class="p1">The man paused, the door already halfway closed. “Noren.”</p><p class="p1">He bowed again. “Thank you, Noren.”</p><p class="p1">Noren muttered a reply, and closed the door with a <em>click</em>.</p><p class="p1">Iroh turned and continued walking up the road, through the sleepy little town towards the house Noren had indicated. It was larger than average compared to the rest of the buildings, situated on a nice parcel of land, and Iroh remembered that Ursa had been the daughter of the magistrate.</p><p class="p1">Unsure what he was hoping for, he knocked on the door when he reached it, although all the windows were dark and the porch was dusty, littered with sticks and leaves. Eventually, he pushed it open to reveal a darkened living room, still furnished but clearly unoccupied for some time. Picking his way carefully over the floor, he realized the back of the house was attached to a greenhouse, and that door was open as well, swinging freely on rusty hinges.</p><p class="p1">It was hot and warm in the light of midday, but the pots just held bare soil and the remains of leaves. In one corner, the ceiling had broken to allow in some rain and there was moss growing across the bench, but aside from that the room seemed entirely devoid of life.</p><p class="p1">It was a shame to see a place like this so neglected, and Iroh quickly turned away, bumping into a desk on his way back into the main room.</p><p class="p1">He cursed and clutched his hip, then frowned at the sound of something rolling around in one of the drawers. His hand hesitated near the handle– was it wrong, to look through the drawers of someone else’s home?</p><p class="p1">Curiosity got the better of him and he pushed the thought aside. The inhabitants were long dead, and whatever was in there, if it was even something of any value, belonged to Ursa. He reasoned he could return it if he ever found her.</p><p class="p1">He wasn’t sure what to expect, but nothing could’ve prepared him for what was inside.</p><p class="p1">With shaking fingers, he reached in and held it up to the light. It was heavy– finely made, but with old techniques– the metal soft and not completely refined. He’d read about this, in his studies of Fire Nation history when he was young, then again in greater detail in Wan Shi Tong’s library. But all that aside, he recognized it immediately from paintings. In every rendition he’d ever seen, this was the headpiece that had adorned Avatar Roku’s topknot.</p><p class="p1">Iroh couldn’t believe the coincidence, and looked around as if he could see if a spirit had guided him here. Of course, the room was empty, but he carefully wrapped the headpiece in a scrap of oilcloth and tucked it into his robe. Even if he never saw Ursa again, this artifact rightly belonged to the Crown Prince– her son, Zuko.</p><p class="p1">The sun was well past its zenith in the sky, and he hurried out of the house and back down the hills. He was fairly certain the ship wouldn’t leave without him, but he didn’t want to put them behind schedule.</p><p class="p1">On the way back, he passed Noren’s house again. Noren himself was nowhere to be seen, but there was a woman kneeling in the garden next to the porch, a watering can at her heels and inspecting the leaves for bugs.</p><p class="p1">Iroh hesitated, wondering if he should tell her to thank her husband for his information, then decided against it. They hadn’t seemed overly friendly, and it was probably best not to bother them. He hurried on before she could turn around.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">The cargo ship docked in the capital city with little fanfare, but to Iroh’s surprise a small royal procession met him as he disembarked. The guards bowed low and indicated a palanquin, which Iroh accepted with a vague sense of unease. His brother had sent this, no doubt, with some sort of game in mind, although it wasn’t clear to what end.</p><p class="p1">His suspicion was further increased when he was addressed as <em>Prince</em> at the gates, the most formal title he could have hoped for under the circumstances, and was treated with almost the reverence he had been the last time he was here.</p><p class="p1">He nodded a greeting to the line guards in the front hall, searching what he could see of their faces for someone he recognized. It had only been a few short years, but nearly every single face was new.</p><p class="p1">Except for one.</p><p class="p1">Sei, his senior lieutenant in Ba Sing Se, and the last one to leave him at the Western Lake. Demoted to a lowly palace guard, positioned at the very end of the front hallway.</p><p class="p1">Iroh met her eyes and hesitated, taking a few steps forward.</p><p class="p1">“Lieutenant Sei.” He bowed. “I must thank you for your loyal service under my command.”</p><p class="p1">Sei bowed as much as she could without drawing attention to them. “I’m no longer a lieutenant, Prince Iroh,” she said. “Any more than you are a general.”</p><p class="p1">Iroh felt a smile creep over his face. “Of course,” he said. “My mistake.”</p><p class="p1">Sei’s eyes flicked from side to side. “My Lord, I must inform you,” she said under her breath, without looking directly at him, “Should you desire to claim your rightful place, there are those who would support you.”</p><p class="p1">Iroh glanced around. There were only two soldiers in their hearing, both of them formerly of Sei’s company, and they made eye contact with him and nodded. Clearly, Ozai’s grip on the court must not be as airtight as it seemed.</p><p class="p1">Although the coronation was months ago, it appeared that tensions were still high, percolating into the guards. A coup was likely to be bloody, and throw the entire capital city into chaos.</p><p class="p1">Almost imperceptibly, he shook his head. “Your loyalty is honorable, Lieutenant,” he said, “but I do not think such extremes will be necessary.”</p><p class="p1">Sei’s brow hardened. “My Lord, you don’t understand–”</p><p class="p1">“The time isn’t right,” he said before she could continue. “Trust me, sometimes it’s better to wait.”</p><p class="p1">Her lips pressed into a line and she fell back into her post. “As you wish, My Lord.”</p><p class="p1">“Thank you.” He bowed again, more deeply this time, then continued to his old apartments in the palace.</p><p class="p1">They were the same rooms he’d occupied before, although somewhat stripped down and oddly more appropriate to <em>disgraced general</em> rather than <em>Crown Prince</em>. It really was a talent of his brother’s, to enforce status upon every aspect of their lives.</p><p class="p1">He’d barely stepped in the doorway before a crowd of servants accosted him, bowing low but their faces urgent.</p><p class="p1">“The Firelord has requested your presence,” said their leader, a manservant holding several folded formal robes. “We are here to dress you and escort you to the throne room.”</p><p class="p1">“Of course.” Iroh bowed and submitted to their ministrations, although he kept the headpiece carefully out of sight. How civil of Ozai to call it a <em>request</em>.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">He still vividly remembers that meeting with Ozai, sitting behind the wall of flames that seemed to burn hotter than Azulon’s. It was a strange, sickening experience to approach the dais, looking up at the thin shadow behind the fire.</p><p class="p1">Automatically, he stopped just where he would have for Azulon and sank down to his knees, supplicating himself under his younger brother’s cold, cruel gaze.</p><p class="p1">Ozai was silent for several long seconds, and as his forehead grew cold against the marble floor Iroh knew he was savoring the moment.</p><p class="p1">“Arise, Brother,” Ozai said eventually, his tone light, almost friendly.</p><p class="p1">Iroh brought up his head and took a breath, sitting back on his heels.</p><p class="p1">“No need to be so formal.” The flames lowered so Iroh could clearly see his face, but he didn’t descend from the throne. “It was such wonderful news to hear you would be making your way back home.</p><p class="p1">“I am happy to return,” Iroh said, keeping his tone equally neutral.</p><p class="p1">“It was tragic, for father to die so suddenly,” Ozai continued. “And even more so that you were absent at his funeral.”</p><p class="p1">Iroh had no doubt the exact opposite was true. The timing of everything– Azulon’s death just after news of defeat at Ba Sing Se, Ozai’s hasty coronation– was beginning to dawn on him, and he felt the hair stand up under his armor.</p><p class="p1">“Of course, we had to respect his last wish,” Ozai said, his expression a perfect picture of troubled resignation. “You understand.”</p><p class="p1">“I do.” Iroh’s gaze dropped unconsciously to the floor, pushing away the burning humiliation as he acknowledged the true purpose of this meeting. Ozai confirming his surrender. </p><p class="p1">“Of course,” Ozai continued, “You are still welcome here at the palace, with all the rights and privileges befitting a Prince of our nation.”</p><p class="p1">“Thank you,” Iroh said, almost mechanically. “Your graciousness is much appreciated.”</p><p class="p1">A slow smile spread across Ozai’s lips. “You’re very welcome.”</p><p class="p1">“I would just ask one thing,” Iroh said, heart pounding.</p><p class="p1">The smile froze. “Of course. Anything at all.”</p><p class="p1">“Where is Firelady Ursa?”</p><p class="p1">The smile disappeared entirely, and the wall of flames rose again. “I regret to inform you, <em>Brother</em>–” the word this time had a sharpness to it, “–that there is no Firelady.”</p><p class="p1">Iroh clenched his stomach to suppress a shudder. So the word really did come all the way from the top. He still didn’t know– and part of his mind was consumed again with worry– whether Ursa was dead or banished, but he knew better than to press for any more answers.</p><p class="p1">Ozai gestured to one of the royal guards, an elite firebender more heavily armed than Iroh had ever seen this deep in the palace. “Show the Prince back to his chambers.”</p><p class="p1">So Iroh was led away, but dismissed the guard at the door to his apartments and instead made a beeline for the main courtyard. It was late in the evening, late enough for the young prince to be in bed, but Iroh wasn’t surprised to find him still awake, sitting at the edge of the turtleduck pond with his knees curled into his chest.</p><p class="p1">He looked up at Iroh’s footsteps, and his wide eyes filled with tears when he saw who it was. He held out his arms and Iroh rushed forward to embrace him, holding him tight as he cried into his shoulder.</p><p class="p1">“It’s okay, Prince Zuko,” he said, rubbing his back in between sobs. “I’m here, and it’s all going to be okay.”</p><p class="p2"> </p><hr/><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">In Ba Sing Se, Iroh makes jook while Zuko sleeps behind him, fever finally starting to abate.</p><p class="p1">Zuko groans, struggling to pull himself to wakefulness, and reaches weakly for the bucket of water. Iroh kneels by him and allows him to drink with slow sips, palming his forehead for signs the fever was nearly gone.</p><p class="p1">“Did you sleep well?” he says, lowering him back onto the thin pillows.</p><p class="p1">Zuko makes a vague noise that could mean yes or no, or that he didn’t understand the question.</p><p class="p1">“It’s alright,” Iroh says. “Go back to sleep. I’m right here, and it’s all going to be okay.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks again to anyone who's still reading/come back to this!! This is really such a fun challenge to write at the end of the day and all the comments/hits/kudos really make it all feel worth it &lt;33</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks so much to whoever's sticking with this fic, and for all your comments/kudos/bookmarks!!</p><p>I'm still on tumblr as <a href="https://cats-and-metersticks.tumblr.com/">cats-and-metersticks</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>